Are You Alright?
by xXxPrettyinPinkxXx
Summary: Everything, absolutely everything was turning against him and he was getting worse each day. Even so, nobody cared enough to help or even show concern for him. Could he be saved before it was too late? USUK! Warnings in later chapters!
1. Prologue

**Are You Alright?**

**Prologue**

**AN: Hey everyone! This is my very first Hetalia story, and I'm pretty excited about it. I was introduced by my friend and I got completely hooked to the amazing adorableness that is USUK :D Of course, I write angst, thus a story like **_**this**_** was born! I left it pretty open because I haven't decided if the main character is Alfred or Arthur yet, so if you review please let me know your opinion on which one you see in this to help me decide, I have a lot planned for both of them. Anyway, with that in mind I hope you enjoy! :D **

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN ABSOLUTELY NOTHING.**

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><p><strong>Happiness<strong>: N; state of well-being characterized by emotions ranging from contentment to intense joy. 

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><p>Joy. <em>Happiness<em>. He'd forgotten the feeling long ago. It was so distant in fact, he had to look in the dictionary for a definition in order to remember what it was and that he _had_ actually experienced it. It was a far-away dream to him, happiness. Had he tried harder, perhaps he could still have it.

Alas, it wasn't meant to be enjoyed by someone like _him_.

He was nothing special. He knew that. He was reminded of it every single day in every single minute in his everlasting life.

He had nothing going for him, no talents, nothing important that would make the others truly see his potential as a person. No, he was merely a background character, an extra in life's movie.

He blankly stared the meetings, getting up and expressing his opinions only when he felt he was obligated to, never for his own sake (He _did_ have a country to attend to, no matter how awful his personal life was). And each time he opened his mouth, he felt the same crushing embarrassment course through his veins whenever a plan of his was turned down or ignored, encouraging him to _just stop trying already nobody wants to listen to you they hate you they hate you they hate you-_

He inhaled. Exhaled. The life-giving process continued, getting out all the toxins from his body in the form of carbon dioxide and replenishing his oxygen levels with every breath…

_If only the toxins occupying his mind could be rid of as easily._

A smile. Simply for the camera. He smiled, laughing at a joke being told while on the inside he was leaking tears. He knew better than to that known. The others would laugh at his thoughts, asking how he didn't notice earlier, how he was so _oblivious_. They would laugh harder than they normally did at his expense, he guessed. They would always laugh.

_They hate you everyone hates you why can you not see that you're just a charity case to all of them?_

Rain. Falling hard just as he had fallen God knows how long ago. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked down the gray streets to his house, head down and clothes getting drenched.

He sat in his home, covered in a blanket that offered no needed warmth (_even an inanimate object knows you aren't worth it_), the buzz of talking reporters droning in his ears from the television, mind flitting with feather light wings from one thought to another:

Sad.

Weak.

Waste.

Disgusting.

Pathetic.

Pathetic.

Pathetic.

Worthless.

Worthless.

_Worthless_.

STOP!

His head spinning from his faltering sanity whirled in a hurricane of realization on a nightly basis, these thoughts spoken to him from the demon known as his subconscious. Another day and night in the life.

_Can't I trade it in?_

_Years_. It had been _years_ since anyone ever asked him if he was alright. Just three simple words and he might be so struck by emotion he'd break down all his barriers and spill everything as the figurative word vomit. Then maybe, if he was lucky, the saint of a person would pity him and try to help his broken soul.

Even he knew this was nothing but an unreachable dream. Nobody cared enough to talk, let alone ask a certain three word question. That would require someone to want to know about him.

Of course, it wasn't as if he was about to ask for any help. He didn't need any, he was perfectly _fine_. He was strong and would die before giving them the feeling of accomplishment due to his undoing.

He'd never tell how he just stayed awake at night, the mask he had come to wear slowly cracking more and more with each passing moon. He'd never tell how the whites of his dull eyes turned blood red with the tiring strain of keeping fat tears at bay. Crying showed a sign of weakness, and that was the last thing he needed them to see. Weakness. _Oh but you're already oh so weak…_

The mask he wore every day was his first and only line of defense against everything there was that could turn against him. If the mask was ever broken, he was in _deep_ trouble.

It was quite effective, that mask. Nobody ever suspected a thing to what he was going through. Sure, he was a great nation, but wasn't it true that the higher you are, the harder you fall?

He'd already fallen…

Hope. It was nonexistent to him now. He was so far gone it would take a miracle for him to ever go back. _Please just please somebody save me somebody has to care just somebody _anybody _please-_

Yes, he was most definitely alright.

** AN: Yeah, that was just a glimpse as to what is coming. I have a lot in store for this story and I am very excited to finally write it out completely. Length is uncertain as of right now, given I have no clue what exactly I'm doing…but you can rest assured that this will be a very happy ending! :D Sad endings aren't my favorite and I've never written one so yeah. Review with your thoughts please, and keep in mind this is my first Hetalia fic please :) **


	2. Peace

**Peace **

**AN: Hello! Welcome to the next part of Are You Alright! I hope you like the way I've chosen to go for this story and the little twists that I plan on making throughout. This is just the beginning, I'm just introducing the "normal" that I might mention later. I also wanted to point out that some words, phrasings and moments are going to be rementioned later if all goes as planned, so if anything seems to be sticking out, that's likely me being obvious :) Oh, and certain things will be twisted here, like England's cooking. You'll see why later on, I promise. Okay, enough of my rambling, here's the story! Enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING.**

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><p>Morning came with a feeling of joy, warmth and peace to all whom opened their eyes to the glow of the sun's rays. It offered a new day full of new beginnings and ways to live life to the fullest, no matter how people chose to enjoy it.<p>

A pair of emerald green eyes opened, taking in the surroundings. Dust floated in the sun where the light shone through the window lighting up the spacious room. All was calm, and the green-eyed one smiled as he stretched, flexing his stiffened limbs.

Then there came a crash.

Groaning, the figure got out of the safety of the warm bed and made his way to the hall, following his memory of the crash. Upon reaching his destination, he shook his head, chuckling as green eyes met a pair of fearful blue ones.

"A-Arthur, I'm s-sorry! I didn't mean to!" The boy was crouched down next to a broken glass. Crystal, meaning it hadn't taken a high fall to break it.

"Just tell me what happened, Alfred."

"W-well, I was just getting a drink of water and I accidentally hit the table and the glass fell and just shattered! I'm sorry." He finished his tale in a small voice, reminding Arthur that he was in charge of the boy.

"It's not a problem, just get me the broom and dustpan in the closet and everything will be as good as new." Arthur instructed the young boy, who obeyed. Arthur looked down at the broken shards of glass, feeling a twinge of pity. The crystal glass, though appearing strong was quite fragile. It was easy to break once past the tough exterior.

"Arthur! I found it! I found it!" Alfred ran back to the hall holding a broom that was far taller than him and a dustpan. Handing them to Arthur, he smiled, prior fear forgotten in the presence of his forgiving big brother.

"Alright, let me just clean this up. Watch your step." Alfred stepped out of the way and let the older one pick up the pieces. Upon finishing, Alfred followed the Briton to the kitchen where the glass was thrown away. Smiling, he grabbed at Arthur's pant leg, tugging slightly, but enough for the green eyes to go downwards.

"Can we have breakfast now?" Innocent sky blue eyes had a simple childhood joy within that could only be from his young age compared to the wise and knowing notes behind the green orbs of Arthur.

"Of course lad. What would you like?" Arthur led Alfred into his roomy kitchen, ignited from the sunlight pouring in.

Alfred pondered the question lightly, knowing what he wanted but ruling out anything else, a typical child move. "Just scones."

Arthur grinned. "Alright then, wait just a bit and they'll be ready." He then got to preparing them, making sure he could get them as perfect as he could. He was very good at making scones, for he used a family recipe that had been perfected over the years. It was impossible to mess up or misinterpret.

As his scones were baking, the elder nation smiled to himself, thinking how great it felt to be a world power. Ever since Alfred, or America, had chosen him over the bloody frog Francis, his life had been fairly simple but nonetheless a happy one. Alfred was the younger brother he'd never had, after taking the young nation under his wing to aid in his development. The people of America were indeed British as Arthur was and enjoyed the life of a Briton in England.

According to him, nothing could ever go wrong enough to ruin the perfection called his current state.

A timer ding signaled the scones were done baking and Arthur pulled them out of the oven, grinning to himself when he found they were perfect, as they had been every time before. He was in all honestly a very good cook, especially when Alfred was present. Setting the scones on a plate, he called Alfred from wherever the lad had gone off to and the pair sat at the table to enjoy breakfast.

"What do you want to do today?" Arthur asked the young blonde once they had been seated.

Said boy looked up with his cheeks full of the treat. After a moment of chewing, for he knew Arthur would be disappointed if he spoke with his mouth full, swallowed and thought about his reply. "I don't know, what would you like?"

Arthur sighed. He'd wanted to spend the day with the boy because he was being called to England and he had no clue when he would be returning. "how about we go for a walk?" Simple, easy, quick. It would also take as long as they wanted, making it a good choice. Besides, he hadn't really explored the land since Alfred's discovery.

Alfred nodded his head with vigor. He got up, cleared his plate and all but ran to his room.

Arthur chuckled at his antics. The boy was so young; he'd miss him while in England. Following Alfred's example, he walked upstairs to his own room and dressed rather quickly as to not waste time. Once finished, he went back downstairs.

Upon reaching the hall, he saw the excited eyes of Alfred awaiting him.

"C'mon, Arthur!" The blue-eyed blonde pulled the persona of England out the door and outside to the woods, where a footpath was seen within the trees. They walked down, the air comfortably silent as they enjoyed the scenery of the American wilderness. The sky was clear and there wasn't a cloud in sight. Walking farther, they arrived at the field where America had first been seen.

"Are you alright Arthur? You're being really quiet." Alfred looked up, as concerned as a child could be.

Arthur smiled back, feeling regret enter his system. "I'm just thinking lad."

"'Bout what?"

Arthur sighed. "I have to go to England when we get home, and I won't be back for a while."

It took a moment for the words to sink in. Once they did, Alfred's lips formed an "O" in understanding, eyes going from joy to a hint of sorrow. "You will be back though, right?"

"Of course!"

"I'll miss you."

Arthur chuckled at the adorable expression being given to him by Alfred. "I'll miss you too lad. When you get older, maybe you can come with me."

Blue eyes widened. "Really? That would be awesome!"

Arthur laughed. "We best be getting back, it's getting rather late." Alfred nodded, and the two walked back to the house.

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><p>Once his bags were packed and the carriage was called, Arthur brought his luggage to the front doorway where Alfred was waiting, forced smile on his lips.<p>

"You're taking this rather easy lad, I don't think you've cried once." Typically, Arthur's departure would cause a few tears to escape from Alfred. This was the first exception.

Alfred looked down, shrugging. "Crying shows weakness, and heroes don't cry! Besides, you don't cry, which means I shouldn't either."

Arthur tilted his head. "I don't cry because everything in my life is perfect. If something were to somehow go astray, I would perhaps shed a few tears but yes, generally I refrain from crying. Just because I don't does not mean you cannot. If you must, then it is alright." He hugged the boy.

That triggered the waterfall to slowly dribble down the cheeks of the younger blonde, shoulders now shaking.

Arthur sighed, and hugged him tighter. "I'll be back, don't fret Al. I'll be back before you know it."

Alfred sniffled. "Don't forget me, okay? And I'll be waiting for you right here every day."

The older nation smiled, wiping the moisture off the young face. "I couldn't forget you, you're like my brother. And I'll be back as soon as I possibly can."

Alfred nodded and the two left the embrace as the carriage arrived. Arthur took his bags in his hands.

"Goodbye for now, Alfred."

He walked out the door and to the cart, getting in and driving off. He smiled upon hearing what the younger boy called out to him next:

"I'll wait here forever and I'll never leave!"

He was certain of the words and a feeling of security nestled in his heart as the trees passed him by, all the while thinking of times with his brother.

**AN: hopefully the foreshadowing wasn't too obnoxious... but yay for fluff! :) This is only the beginning so I can set a stage for everything to slowly go haywire. I'll likely need to research a bit and I'm on vacation now, thus I can update. Later it may be difficult but I will update as often as I can as long as I have motivation! Thank you for all the positive response to this! I hope none are disappointed, and reviews are love! :D**


	3. Starting

**Starting**

**AN: Hello again! Thank you all for reading, and I hope you enjoy this update! I tried doing some research (APUSH doesn't really help with the history of England…sigh) but it was for my writing so I had to do it! This is fairly long to get everything out there that I need, because I cannot find a cutoff point that isn't awkward… oh well. Enjoy! **

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING.**

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><p>Arthur sighed as he dragged his tired limbs up to the front porch of his own house, struggling with his bags to get out the keys. Once he opened the door, he entered and took in his surroundings.<p>

The first thing noticed was the lack of decent light. It couldn't be blamed though, for it was a rainy day in London, no sun to shine through as it had in America.

Arthur smiled, America. He missed the boy dearly, but he knew it was for the best to leave him for a while so that Arthur could keep the land strong and protected while Alfred was so young. Once he got older, Arthur planned on showing Alfred the ropes on how to take care of himself through Great Britain.

His thoughts on the future were shattered as someone proceeded to pound on the door.

"Come in."

"Alright Arthur, you've had a long enough break from your work. I don't care how great that little colony of yours is but you have your own homeland to take care of. He's across the ocean and you are needed here." Not even a hello before it was time to work.

"Sir, what could possibly be wrong with making sure the colony is fine? We want it happy." He felt uncomfortable calling the boy "the colony", but it couldn't be helped in the moment.

"War is nearing."

Confusion became evident in the emerald eyes as said nation tilted his head. Against who?

"Who could possibly be daft enough to go against the bloody British Empire?"

"It's more a…continuation. Prussia is going against Austria, France and Russia. He has no allies and we are needed."

"Won't that put our colonies in danger from French colonies in North America?"

"Yes, but with you here maintaining everything it will be fine. Besides, we have the strongest navy force and Prussia has a land force to be reckoned with." He chuckled. "You'll be fine. It's just another war. Concentrate on the post-war rewards and takings. With Prussia working the European countries, you can put most focus to that colony you seem to care for."

"So that's it? I have to control everything now?"

"Well yes, you are the persona of the British Empire, are you not? That labels this as your job to control. Do a good job now." With that, Arthur was left alone, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders.

_Why am I doing this on my own? This has never happened…_

Shaking the thought out of his head, he sat down at his desk and proceeded to plan for war.

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><p>Worn.<p>

Tired.

_Overwhelmed._

Francis, the bloody frog, managed to get some of the native people to fight for France against the British in North America, making his job a lot harder. He had his troops and the colonists aiding him in the fights, but still it was never enough to please his boss, his _king_.

"Arthur! What the bloody hell do you think you are accomplishing? This isn't ending fast enough; I expected a win by now!"

Said man looked up with dull, weary eyes that cried out for sleep. His posture was nowhere near that of a gentleman's and he was the epitome of exhaustion.

"I'm sorry your highness but France has New France and the natives and I-"

"France has been holding its main concern to Europe. They send little to no supplies to the colonies, unlike you, Arthur. You could easily follow the example. Our colonies could learn to fend for themselves." A glare had made its way to the king's eyes, directed to his blonde nation. "The bloody colonists are the reason for the front in North America, trying to enter French and Indian lands. Let them go on their own."

"They aren't as trained as well as we are-"

"Yet the Canadians manage, do they not? Yet you send troops-"

This time it was Arthur who cut off the other. "I haven't been sending many men over, actually. Prussia also has been focusing more on the land war while I've been using our fleet. I'm trying sir, you should know that since we haven't lost yet."

"We haven't won, either. And France continues to be victorious in battles. Perhaps a lesson really _should_ be learned here, hm?" The king nodded once, signaling disappointment and the finalization of the conversation, leaving Arthur to work alone.

Once the door close, the green eyes shut for more than a few moments, dark bags becoming more evident. He opened then just as slowly, hesitating before working harder to fufill his role as a strong empire. It was his job and he was good at it. He wasn't going to lose this.

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><p><em>Ring, ring…<em>

"Arthur? It's me the awesome Gilbert. Listen, we've just taken over Silesia, and poor Roderich over here isn't in the position to fight anymore! A treaty is in order. Congratulations on the win, partner."

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><p>The silence was ringing in his ears.<p>

All the nations whom had participated in the appropriately named Seven Years' War, or the French and Indian War to the French and English colonists, were seated around a table, allies to Prussia and Austria on either side, a treaty in the center.

Ruby red eyes shone with the pride of a victory, one that would go down in history. Lifeless green ones reflected the opposite emotion, conveying a sense of incomprehensible exhaustion. He was frazzled from the war efforts, and only the Prime Minister had aided when it was certain that names would be listed in the British history stories. He'd worked alone, again.

It didn't matter, of course, so why did it hurt this time? He was only tired, and it was a small price to pay in order to remain a world superpower.

"The kingdom of Prussia and the British Empire are to be given the following lands for their war efforts." A man with a deep voice spoke, filling the silent room with sound.

Given Prussia had no demands, Arthur stood ready to recite what he was told to take.

"The British Empire would like the following to be placed under British rule: India, the African settlements of the French and the Florida territory from Spain. We also want the French territories of the Caribbean Islands."

Francis pondered this, a look of pain etched on his young features. "No."

Arthur looked up from his lap. "No?"

"I'd rather you take Matthew."

"He's your-"

"Yes, my son. I'm in no position to take complete care of him, the war and all. Mon ami, don't let him suffer for my mistakes. What is it were Alfred?"

Arthur was stuck. He would want what was best for his colony, even if it meant no longer having him for they would still be close. After a moment, he looked back into the Frenchman's eyes.

"Alright, I'll do it."

Francis sadly smiled, knowing what he had given up. "Merci, l'Angleterre."

"Does Matthew know about this?"

"Non, I'm afraid. Please tell him, I haven't the heart." That much was evident in the blue eyes of the French nation. Arthur nodded his head at the simple request, and once more papers were signed, the nation's shook hands and everything went to their respective homes.

All but Arthur, who went to New France.

Knocking on the door, he was met by a young boy with violet eyes and longer blonde hair than Arthur or Alfred. He looked at Arthur, hesitatingly, before smiling.

"Hello Mister Arthur! How's papa? I heard we're done fighting!" He grinned even bigger at the thought of Franc visiting him again.

Arthur sighed sadly, he had known this would be very difficult. "Matthew, Francis isn't going to be arriving anytime soon."

"W-why?" His violet eyes glistened with the childhood innocence he hadn't lost yet.

"As a result of the war, I received you as a territory. I'm watching you now."

Realization dawned on his features. He nodded his head in recognition, eyes visibly straining from attempting to keep emotions in check. Nonetheless, the boy found it in him to smile again at his guest.

"Well, then welcome, Mister Arthur!" Arthur was surprised at the bravery shown by the lad. He just lost his caretaker, and was taking it very well.

Maybe this wouldn't be too bad…

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><p>"Arthur!"<p>

The blonde had just returned home from New France and was working on paperwork when his boss burst the door open, nearly ripping it off the hinges.

"Y-yes your majesty?"

"Your colonists are causing more trouble. They keep trying to move past the Appalachian Mountains into Indian lands. The Indians, as you can guess, are not happy at all. They're threatening us. I am actually debating whether to let the colonists fend on their own, we can't bail them out this time. We're ruined!"

Oh, did Arthur know this fact. He was weak, constantly shaking from exhaustion and he was getting pushed down under the weight of being abandoned in his work. His previous bosses had always aided him, but now…

"I'll get on that straight away, no troops will be needed I can assure you."

"Good. Oh, an d try to pick up the pace a little bit. The country doesn't deserve to suffer just because you can't keep up with a little bit of paperwork. Stop your slacking." He left the blonde feeling as if everything was crumbling.

Back in America, this wouldn't be happening. He'd be relaxing with the lad he'd grown to love and they would be enjoying each other's company. No bosses degrading him or his tireless efforts, no paperwork, no post-war problems. He'd be happier in America.

That was when Arthur decided to work double time, if nothing more but to see Alfred again.

He issued the proclamation to keep Alfred safe from attacks, surely the boy would understand. He _prayed_ Alfred would understand.

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><p>He was being forced. He didn't want to do it, he really didn't but he had no choice. He had to sign his name on the line or face the consequences.<p>

Taxes. More of them. The colonists were already unhappy, Arthur could sense it. Hell, _he'd_ be unhappy in their shoes.

He was shoved in the direction of the document authorizing the tax; First the proclamation, now this. Arthur was hesitant, but he had to keep his boss happy with him.

_I'm sorry, Alfred…_

He signed the line.

Stamp Act in progress.

The Sugar Act followed, then the Intolerable Acts. He could feel his walls falling in the new world, but there wasn't anything he could do. He was just…overwhelmed with everything, raising Alfred, taking care of an empire, practically raising Matthew, dealing with an insatiable king…it was a little much for the man. He was alone in his efforts and had nobody to turn to for help. Everyone he'd had in the past were dealing with their own post-war issues, leaving him abandoned.

He did have one person…

And he made a point to pack his bags and visit this person after years and years.

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><p>Finally, finally, he could return to the land of his beloved colony. Alfred still needed him, he was still wanted here. Alfred would never abandon him, he'd promised.<p>

Arthur smiled at the thought of always having someone there. He wasn't used to it. His older brothers had all pushed him around and left him to fend for himself, but of course it didn't hurt him. He could handle it, he was the British Empire! It took a lot more to knock down a powerful nation such as him. Even being left alone by his own boss, friends and mentors wasn't enough.

That pain in his chest was just him getting sick, a cold perhaps. All he needed was a trip to America to recuperate and get back on his feet.

Maybe then everyone would stop leaving…

Shaking his head, he walked to the door and knocked, waiting to see Alfred's cheerful expression.

If that was the case, who was _this_?

Before him was no young boy. Sure, it had been awhile, but certainly not so long for Alfred to become a _man_ overnight!

Then again…_oh_.

It had been a very long while, longer than even _he_ expected.

Alfred stared at the elder nation with the same sky eyes, but there was a tint of coldness within them, resentment, maybe? Arthur couldn't be sure, but it caused a sick feeling in his stomach.

The blue-eyed nation spoke. Three words that shot Arthur down from the edge of the cliff he was clutching.

_Falling_.

"I want independence."

**AN: AAANNNDDDD there we have it! It has begun. Yeah, I've completely twisted history and untwisted it, but I hope it was somewhat accurate. I wanted to make Arthur seem very much in denial about how hurt he is about being left alone in his work and how it's like his childhood. He's feeling really overwhelmed with everything going on in his life and he has nobody to help him, so Alfred asking for independence…well, you can just guess how abandoned he's feeling now. This is where it "begins" in a way…thanks for reading! Review? :D**


	4. Destroyed

**Destroyed**

**AN: Okay, these are really fast updates…GO MOTIVATION! :D Thank you to those who read, favorited, alerted and most of all reviewed :) That definitely keeps me going! I know Arthur is pretty OOC, but that's only because I'm sort of twisting his character. Don't worry, he'll be back to normal in no time, you'll see :P This is a pretty big chapter, given it's the Revolutionary War and all. I attempted to convey what Arthur was feeling in the scene based on what has happened in this story. Hope you like it! Anyway, onto the fic!**

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING.**

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><p>It's funny, how things can go from good to bad in an instant. One day, you're feeling on top of the world with the heavens as your only limit, the next you're being thrown into the pits of hell, practically dying.<p>

This was one of those times.

"No, Alfred, you're just confused."

Alfred's cold eyes intensified. "No, Arthur, I'm not confused. You abandoned me, then completely destroy me? My people aren't happy. I'm not happy. I'm leaving and you can't stop me, you or your darn king."

Arthur's bows furrowed in confusion and what he would later identify as anger. Why would his little colony want to leave? The last time they had seen each other, Alfred was happy as could be to be with him.

Funny how time could change even the most innocent things…

"No, Alfred. That's not happening."

"Who's going to stop me? You're not as high and mighty as you once were."

He knew that, _God_ did he know that. He wouldn't let his colony know that, though.

"Alfred, if you would just listen-"

"No, Arthur, I'm done listening to whatever you have to say, because as of today, I don't have to anymore. I'm my own nation."

"I won't allow it."

"Then this means war."

That was when something inside Arthur snapped. For once, he wasn't just going to sit back and watch as he lost something else.

He'd fight this time.

"You're on."

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><p>The training was vigorous, but they could easily handle it. Arthur smirked as he imagined what the American troops were doing; they were so ill prepared for war. They had very little experience.<p>

He looked to his army, marching in perfect formation, clearly trained with lots of practice. Their uniforms, red as blood, stood brightly against the clouded sky. He sighed. This was never supposed to happen to them, it was so perfect.

That must've been why it had to shatter.

He rubbed his temples, a stress-induced headache coming on; one war right into another. What was he _doing_? He sighed again.

"Lord Kirkland!"

Arthur turned towards the voice. "Yes?"

"We are awaiting orders, when are we leaving?"  
>Arthur closed his eyes, <em>last chance, last chance to just give him up, maybe he won't hate you…let him <em>go_..._

"We leave tonight."

_Chance lost._

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><p>It was pouring rain, the cold droplets causing his vision to falter slightly at times. He faced the Confederate Army…alone.<p>

They had left him, again.

It seemed to be all that happened lately…

_What's wrong with me? I'm still the most powerful empire on the globe for heaven's sake!_

"Hey Britain!"

Blue eyes, cold as ice, staring at him with pure malice. Navy uniform looking similar to his own, only carried with more pride. The stubborn cowlick stood tall as well, as if a soldier itself.

"All I want is my freedom! I'm no longer a child, nor your little brother!"

Arthur was shaking, fear slowly creeping in. _What were these bloody emotions?_ He was stronger than this, it was just stress. Once he won, his boss would like him again and help him, he wouldn't be alone anymore, he'd be strong once again…

_Concentrate._

"From now on, consider me _independent_!"

That word again. It was only a word. If that were true, then why did his core ache at the sound? He slowly felt himself slipping away inside, a slow pain taking over his body.

What's going on?

_You're dead to me. _

His teeth were grit in concentration, aiming a musket straight at Arthur. Arthur could have sworn it was his heart. The eyes, once pure and innocent as a clear sky now held the intentions of a murderer. He was going to…_oh_.

_So that's how it's going to be._

The Briton gritted his teeth to, holding his gun in a death grip. His own eyes, turning duller and duller as a glisten filled the corners. Water?

He charged, bayonet aimed at Alfred's chest, but not the heart. He felt no need to

_Why are you doing this to me? Was I not enough for you? Do you resent choosing me? Why are you leaving me too? I, I…_

Alfred, reacting finally, lifted his musket in defense, seeing Arthur's target in the green eyes, his own blue eyes widening in fear and shock.

It was a good thing he lifted the musket.

Arthur jammed his bayonet with impossible force meant to seriously injure the young man, no longer boy. The force created a deep slice in the gun's exterior, throwing it in the air and making it land in a murky puddle.

The only sound heard was the rain falling, pounding on the hard ground below.

Alfred looked at his former brother with fear etched in his features, fearing for his life.

He had good reason to do so; he was at the mercy of Arthur's bayonet.

"I won't allow it! You _idiot_, why can't you follow anything through to the end?"

Memories flashed in the emerald orbs, pleasant ones. Their first meeting, how Alfred chose Arthur and not the frog, Alfred's face when he saw the soldiers made just for him, his welcomes whenever Arthur came to visit, their field…

_Why are you leaving me?_

It was enough to convince him.

"Ready, aim!" Behind them, a commander ordered Alfred's troops, whom raised their own guns and pointed them at the Briton. Arthur could have laughed; they were going to shoot him.

His subconscious whispered to him, _"You're already dying inside."_

Why was the pain inside him getting _stronger_?

Alfred stared at the tip of the bayonet, clearly getting more frightened as the seconds ticked away.

_You can win it right here Arthur, you can take him back, who cares if he hates you any more than he already does, you'll be powerful, successful, everyone will fear your name! Threaten him!_

…_No…I don't want him to hate me anymore._

He lowered the gun, then dropped it, Alfred's eyes contorting into a confused gaze.

_You're so weak, Arthur. No wonder nobody wants to help you, it's funny how pathetic you are. No wonder you're doing everything on your own, you keep failing. _Arthur's subconscious voice hissed in his ear.

"There's no way I could shoot you. I can't."

_Because you're weak and pathetic. _

It suddenly hit him: Alfred _left_ him. He was gone, Arthur was all alone. He had nobody. Everybody left him.

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, nearly knocking the breath out of him.

_I'm alone, I'm alone…Why can't anybody stay with me? Why do I always end up alone? It was so perfect! What did I do_ wrong_? _

_ Why aren't I good enough?_

Everything crashed down on his shoulders, his boss leaving him alone, screaming at him, his brothers yelling at him during his childhood, him trying to give Alfred the childhood he never had and failing…he was such a failure. The pain was now unbearable, a searing, throbbing _agony_ that was full-blown, the pressure becoming too much for him to bear, it was all building, building, _buiding_-

He collapsed onto his knees, the tears he fought to never shed falling out of his eyes.

_Please Alfred, I'll try harder, just don't leave me please don't-_

"Why? Dammit, _why_? It's not fair…" He sobbed, covering his face with his hand.

Unknowingly to Arthur, Alfred stared down at him, crestfallen expression on his face. "You know why."

Arthur sobbed all the harder.

_Please, I'm begging you, stay with me, don't make me completely alone, I can't handle it again-_

Arthur thought of how happy Alfred had been when they first went home, the pure joy in his eyes.

_"Let's go home" _he had said.

He remembered reaching down to the boy, and the gigantic smile that lit up his face before taking his hand.

It was gone, now.

"What happened? I remember when you were great." Alfred spoke the words with pity.

Arthur remembered it too.

_Please Alfred, please…_

Turning around, the continental army left the now broken blonde in a crying heap on the ground, sobbing.

It was at that moment that Arthur knew:

He hadn't just lost a war;

He had lost _everything._

**AN: That was way more depressing than I had thought it would be…I hope you all liked it :) I hope the chain-of-events were somewhat realistic to end up at the last sentence. Yes, Arthur is now practically broken beyond repair. No, this is not where it ends. I have a lot planned before then, it just depends what order I put them in :) It only gets more intense from here!Thanks for reading, and reviews are loved! :D**


	5. Memories

**Memories**

**AN: Hello again everyone! My apologies for having this up so late! I have had a lot on my plate lately and have had no time for updating! I hope this makes up for it. Not much really happens, but it will start pretty soon, promise :)**

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING.**

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><p>Dawn arrives with a vengeance against the moon, lighting up all it can reach, enveloping all in a warm embrace. The reassurance of a new day, new opportunities and new adventures to fulfill. Everyone was waking up, ready to begin a new day.<p>

All except one blonde, who was walking up the street to his house.

Numb. All he felt was numb. The shock hadn't quite ended yet, and for that he was grateful; he couldn't handle feeling emotion at that moment. Not when he was practically broken into bits.

Walking in the door, he sighed. It no longer felt like a home, more a prison created to slowly torture him until he cracked.

He was in his "home" for merely a moment before a knock at the door was heard.

"Come in."

George walked in, exasperated. "How could you _lose_ the bloody war, Arthur? You're bloody _Great Britain_! You should have had them begging for _mercy_! I heard you had the opportunity to shoot and win but you _skipped out_ on it! What self-respecting man, let alone _power_, would _ever_ do that? Enlighten me with your thoughts,_ Arthur_, because I cannot _fathom_ why the bloody _hell_ you didn't end it there!" He was fuming at the personification.

"I…I…I cannot explain sir. I simply couldn't shoot him. I practically raised him." Arthur replied, feeling the numbness escaping from him, a panic rising in his throat. He didn't want to deal with it yet.

"Do children not misbehave? Do they not act out at times? They must be shown who is in charge. The colonies are, or should I say _were_, thanks to _you_, children of the British Empire. You must show them discipline or they will never learn how to behave. You failed at that part of being a power, bringing even more shame to yourself. Humor me; were you not the laughing stock of your family? Were your brothers not ashamed of being associated with you, yet alone related by blood? It's no wonder they chose you to represent; it's a _joke_ to them, seeing you screw up your duties all the bloody time." He snorted, not noticing the slight pain etched in the emerald stare adorning a blank expression.

"That's not true! My brothers loved me; they looked after me until I was old enough." What else could he say? He had no power against his boss…

"That is where you are wrong. You were blinded by familial love to them, you didn't see their motives. It was a lie." Arthur stared at the wall, trying in vain to calm himself. This man may have been his boss, but this was degrading beyond measure.

"That in itself is a lie."

"Have you blocked out your past that much? I had wished you weren't so pathetic when I first became king, but now I see I was wrong."

Arthur was unaffected by these words. The past was done. So what if it had been blocked out from his memories? It was better left forgotten. He was powerful now, the British Empire! He had no need to dwell on his less-then-shining moments when he was younger and not the appearing-age of twenty three. He was fine with everything.

"You're just stubborn."

"If I'm stubborn, what does that make you?" Arthur fumed at his boss.

"Much more of a man than you, you bloody twat. Now, if you excuse me, there are people worthy of being conversed with that await my attention. Improve yourself or we are going to have some problems, got it?" He left without waiting for an answer, leaving Arthur on his own.

Now left to his own devices, Arthur felt a fiery rage build from within his core, and started shaking. He wasn't able to control the movement, it was like shivering.

Then he just snapped.

He took books and threw them onto the wooden floors, growling and screaming and just letting out all the pent up anger from everything. His eyes darkened from the pure red rage. He punched the walls and ripped at his hair in his fit, everything just _exploding_.

At some point he collapsed onto the floor, exhausted. He was so…_tired_. Overwhelmed. There was too much pressure on just one person, as if the fate of the world was on his shoulders.

He couldn't figure out when the humiliating wet tears started falling down his face. It was likely when the memories flooded back into his mind, all of them from all ages.

Finding Alfred.

Alfred choosing him to be his brother rather than the frog.

Going home together and seeing Alfred's face light up at the sight of their house in the Americas.

Returning to the boy whenever he wanted.

Laying in the meadow where Alfred was found.

Going home happy after a perfect trip.

The bloody king putting everything related to the British Empire on the shoulders of Arthur.

Nightmares of the failing country every night.

Anxiety attacks from the stress and pressure.

Winning.

Coming back to Alfred after years of being away.

The war.

That empty feeling of _mourning_, _loss_, _lacking_.

He picked his head up from his hands, tears stopping. He didn't cry. He wouldn't cry. He wasn't that gone yet. He would only cry when he was truly weak, and Arthur Kirkland wasn't weak.

It was a lesson learned from his brothers.

A few petty memories of his not-to-distant past weren't enough to break him, the personification of the mighty British Empire. He'd survived plagues, wars, everything, and none of that broke him or his will. He knew he'd get through this is the determination in his eyes had anything to say about it.

Little did Arthur Kirkland know, his subconscious wasn't so sure. His eyes may have shown determination, but deeper in was the first crack in the mask that he had created. He was mistaken completely about what was to come.

What Arthur Kirkland didn't know is that this "fit" was the start to something that wouldn't end. It would keep getting worse until he fell under it all, only possible escape was to ask for what would likely be worse for him:

Help.

**AN: And now we get a glimpse to what is to come :) I hope you liked this chapter, as boring as it was, since it leads to the next part. We may have warnings coming up later so keep that in mind! :D Thank you for reading and reviews are loved! :)**


	6. Fading

**Chapter 6: Fading**

**AN: Words cannot describe how obnoxiously late this update is. Ugh, school has just been crazy and I somehow managed to lose my plotline multiple times leading into this…sorry :P Anyways, this is me trying to begin the real events so hopefully I have succeeded! :D Enjoy! **

**We have warnings here! But they're sort of minor, but I'm listing them anyways! **

**WARNING: Verbal abuse **

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING.**

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><p>Green eyes were focused intently on the paper in front of him, signing where it indicated as he skimmed the documents, not fully processing the words in his brain. He was exhausted, and had been since the end of the war, since 1783.<p>

It was currently 1812, and relations were awkward with America and the colonies. Why Francis allowed Napoleon to sell the Louisiana Territory to Alfred in 1803 he still had to figure out, and the lad himself had the Embargo Act? Honestly, he was incapable of running a country; the act nearly destroyed what he had fought for and had no effect on its desired targets!

Arthur sighed, pausing in his work to rub his temples due to a growing headache. The stress was getting to him. All others whom had aided him in the past were gone, leaving mountains of work for him to do and get done in the same time. He was lucky to get any sleep as he never made a dent in the paperwork loaded on his shoulders every night.

Deciding he would have to take care of himself before anything else would get done, Arthur got up from his desk and walked to prepare a lunch for himself, given he really hadn't been eating well and needed nutrients to avoid becoming sick. He found an apple and began eating it while he scoured his cupboards for other sources of energy, hopefully carbohydrates to keep his brain functioning fairly quickly. After a few moments, he decided to make scones, one of his old favorites.

It had been so long he had almost forgotten what they tasted like.

Gathering the ingredients, the Brit smiled at the thought that he would be doing something for himself as Arthur Kirkland again, not as the British Empire. Maybe he could take a nap next, but that was only in his daydreams.

Scones in the oven, he sighed. Life was so much easier before 1776. It had almost been twenty years since the end, but it was still difficult to adapt to the change. He knew it was because there was so much faith in him to keep the empire strong and running, for if anyone could do it, it would be the personification himself!

Of course he knew he fed himself lies, he was falling ever since he had been left alone away from everyone and everything. The only contact he got from others was in the form of written requests and letters. He was an island, after all. He was used to isolation.

The timer sounded and Arthur took the scones out and set them on a plate to eat. His stomach roared after the scent reached his brain, he was starved.

Just as he sat down his door opened.

"I hope that you're-hey, what are you doing, sitting on the job?" His boss had come for a visit, it seemed, and had brought his charming way with people with him.

"I'm eating lunch."

The other man snorted, amused as Arthur grew uncomfortable under the man's gaze. "That's all you do lately! If you're not sleeping or just wasting time that is! Why can't you take your job seriously for once?" The man was exasperated with the behavior of the blond. What didn't he get about the words "Powerful Empire"?

"It's been my first break since-"

"Let me guess, since an hour ago? Or how about five minutes ago? I leave you to your devices to hopefully have you redeem us and you're stuffing your face and wasting time! Rome wasn't built in a day, but it was destroyed in one and with how you're acting we're going to follow!" The man continued to shout as Arthur could only take it. "…and furthermore, why do you need to even eat anyways? I would have thought you would want to spend your fat reserves to look more approachable during meetings rather than looking like a pig. Clean yourself up, I would expect someone as lazy as you would look calmer, the bags under your eyes have bags themselves! Pull yourself together, Arthur. Don't make me find you more worthless than you already are, give yourself some dignity." At those final words, Arthur was left on his own again after months of being isolated. It was alright of course, his boss had lots to do and he was used to it.

Strangely, the young Brit didn't feel much like eating his food anymore so he threw it away, getting right back into his work with even more vigor than before.

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><p>He hadn't wanted to do it. He really hadn't. He had known of all the pressures that would be placed on him if he went through with it, but did anyone listen to his pleas? His <em>begs<em>? _His shouts_?

He hadn't wanted to enter war against his once-brother. He hadn't wanted to almost kill him by burning his heart. He too had known the pain of nearly being destroyed; he hadn't wanted the same on someone he had cared for, even if it was over and done.

He had been forced. It truly wasn't his fault.

"_Angleterre_!" Francis yelled at him after everything had happened as he was staring at the ground. "How could you _do_ that to Alfred? Have you forgotten _everything_? How could you be so _stupid_! You know from experience that burning a capital can kill a nation, and I don't care about our immortality, how could _you_ of all people want him _dead_? _What were you thinking_?"

Arthur was silent.

"Oh, let me guess," the French voice had a bite to it that stung. "You _weren't_ thinking. You _never_ think, Arthur. You're always correcting everyone else but when it comes to yourself, you mess up even more than everyone else. It's a good thing this ended before both of you died from _your_ stupidity!" Francis fumed, appalled that Arthur had wanted his old friend dead.

Arthur continued to stare, eyes of green that had since died out. He stared so people wouldn't think him careless and unmoved at international affairs. It was easier to seem indifferent and hostile.

Finally, he looked up again. "If Matthew had done the same to you, you would know how it feels, you bloody _frog_." Arthur used all he had to glare at the Frenchman, his body fully drained and running on nothing, for he knew it was a good idea to eat occasionally to use the stored body fat he had on his slim frame. He wasn't sleeping and everything was falling apart around him, he couldn't control what he did anymore, he was too powerless against his boss.

"Don't you _dare_ bring my Mathieu into this, England." His nation-name was only used when Francis was enraged, and as it was the name was spit from Francis' lips. "You did this for revenge. Your boss even said you _jumped _at the chance for this opportunity, don't _lie_ to me." Francis looked down on Arthur, knowing the truth (_but its lies Francis can't you see please understand please I'm begging you I'm so tired-_).

"I find no need to discuss this further, for it seems to me that you already know all there is to know." Arthur began to turn away, no emotion able to be read on his face, his eyes even more dulled. "Good day, Francis." He walked back to where his boss was waiting for him.

Reaching his destination, he was greeted with a strong grip to his short hair, the force bringing his face to the man really responsible for the attack on Alfred. "This is how you keep an empire successful. You remind the colonies who they're dealing with by using tactics such as this. You're lucky I even allowed you a say, even if I ignored it." His blond hair was released, still no emotion on Arthur's features. "Now get out of my sight, you disgust me. Why am I stuck with _you_ as a country? You can't run our mighty empire correctly at all. Leave." Arthur turned away, head aching from the grip.

His thoughts drowned him, and he was becoming even more drained as they continued to flood in. He was finding that it was much, much easier to be emotionless and cruel during times like these so that his peers would find him brave and strong, and a ruthless leader that would lead the empire to greatness.

Isn't that what his brothers had always preached and instructed him to do?

He knew he was doing the right thing and allowed others to have their own thoughts, the petty wannabes.

Subconsciously, he was aware that it was a defense mechanism slowly building up against others as he tried to stay sane in the choir of reproaches.

**AN: And Arthur's issues begin! The conversations were really to emphasize I hope this wasn't too fast for anyone, and I had to skip the War of 1812 because I wanted to concentrate on the emotions here. Oh and as for Arthur's boss, fill in that character with whoever you wish, because I feel awful using a real person and making him a villain… Review with any questions if I was unclear and thank you for bearing with me! :D **


	7. Down

**Chapter 7: Down**

**AN: Finals are awful…ugh I can't even… Here's the next chapter! I really hope this isn't too late; I've been so busy studying as the year ends! Thank you for waiting and an extra special thank you to all who have reviewed! On with the story!**

**Warnings: Verbal abuse and mentioned eating disorders (you'll see what I mean)**

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING.**

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><p>Silence was truly a cruel form of torture, at the same level as ignorance. Too much quiet. Too much <em>nothingness<em>.

Silence gripped his throat and constricted his trachea, cutting off the oxygen so desperately needed to breathe. It filled his mind with the insults and memories of him being a failure. He was used to it though, it didn't faze him really. He knew he deserved to think about his cowardice. He had made a laughing stock of himself and his boss, which was not the duty of a personification. He was told he was to create a good name for a nation and obey all orders, take criticism with pride and never back down from a fight. He had also been recently informed that there were other rules to abide: do nothing to embarrass your boss, always give (never take), and if these rules were broken there would be consequences.'

Of course, he figured the last few on his own, for they were implied

He remembered his days as a pirate, ruthless and brave, sailing the seas with not a care in the world. His queen had had pride in him, and he had been feared by all who saw him in his red coat, standing tall with pride. His sword would gleam, matching the sparkle in his eyes as he became the living definition of "power". He had been loved and respected.

The silence was making him mad, insanity blossoming in his brain from the loudness of the unuttered screams.

He stirred hi Earl Grey, dull eyes focused on a random spot as he went through his daily routine. Everything was going wrong, absolutely everything. Wasn't that frog supposed to be his friend? Francis knew that Arthur had loved Alfred with everything he had, and would do anything for the boy. How could he forget such a thing, he was the country of love for goodness sake! His boss…

Arthur sighed. His boss was right. He was a coward, couldn't do anything correctly. He was too calm, cool, collected, a _gentleman_. He was too afraid to stand up to anything as it went out of control from what he tried to do. In the past, he had had the ultimate voice, one that everyone listened too for decisions on what to do for the empire. Now, what little power he had left was slowly being snatched from his weakening grasp.

A hole formed in his chest at the thought. He was an imposter, he couldn't be the personation of England; He was too weak and pathetic. He felt the hole grow, doubling in size as he lost more of himself to numbness.

_Look at me, a bloody world power sitting around doing _nothing_. What a success I am._

He sighed, and picked up his cup, pouring the golden liquid down the sink, watching it disappear completely.

He wasn't in the mood for tea.

"Arthur, I need to speak with you." His boss didn't look up from his work as Arthur entered, slower than normal (if anyone had bothered to notice).

"Y-yes sir?" _Pathetic._

His boss' glare spoke what Arthur thought. "I wanted to inform you that Victoria had taken the throne. I figured I may as well, since you're so bloody incompetent that I doubt you could understand unless you were told." The numbness flared inside Arthur's core, making everything go cold. He kept his gaze nonchalant, not giving away any hidden wounds. Nothing to become even more of an embarrassment.

"Thank you, sir. My apologies for the inconvenience... Will that be all?" He looked down into his lap, anything to get out of the stare…

"Thankfully, yes. She has lots of business to attend to currently and cannot see you. Of course, I don't know why she would want to see you; you're just nothing in the eyes of everyone you meet. I do hope you realize that soon enough and stop acting all high and mighty." The man shook his head. "That is all. Leave."

Arthur obeyed. It was all he could do.

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><p>Famine. It was a horrid word, connotation being of despair and pain. Barren fields of crusty brown where green once flourished, the world went grey. Cries of starvation, followed by deafening silence became a choir in the air as people perished. Truly,<em> truly<em> awful.

The Potato Famine was no different; if anything Arthur felt it was one of the worst. He did all he could to help his brother, he _tried_. Sleepless nights and early mornings went into aiding his brother, as he himself worsened as well. There was no time for eating or sleeping when all of his time went into helping his brother (_and himself as he tried to prove he _wasn't _a waste he _wasn't _a failure he truly wasn't please believe me I'm trying _so_ hard_).

When he finally felt himself swaying from lack of nutrients and a decent night's sleep, he knew he had to cook himself something, as much as he didn't want to.

Finally eating and finishing a real meal (a bowl of soup, enough to hold him but not too much, not too greedy), his boss (with his perfect timing) rushed into the kitchen.  
>"Ar-What do you think you're <em>doing<em>?" The bass voice boomed in the small room. "Your own _brother _is in the middle of food _shortage_ and you're here eating as if you're the bloody ruler of the world! Don't you waste enough time? For goodness sake, why are you such an _idiot_? You don't even deserve food!" He left as quickly as he entered, fuming.

Arthur could only stare at the space that had been filled only a moment earlier. Feeling nauseous, he stared down guiltily at his emptied bowl, nausea being paired with the "too full" feeling he was too used to lately. He rushed out, hand covering his mouth tightly as he did so. When he was outside and away from any possible eyes, he emptied himself of the demon in his stomach. He didn't even need to make himself vomit, it was somehow a reflex. It happened often enough, when he was actually _eating_, that is. He knew he wasn't worth wasting food that could go to a much more worthy cause;

He was just a waste of space after all.

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><p>"Arthur, I'm done."<p>

The green-eyed man looked up at the voice, his eyes dulled from years of self-torture, the sparkle of life and wanting to live nearly gone completely. His already lean, thin body was much frailer, although the loose clothes he wore never allowed it to be seen. His posture was also noticeably less erect, as the weight of the world pushed him down along with the aid of gravity.

"Wait, why can't we-"

"No, Arthur. I've made my decision. My people and most importantly me can't be here anymore, We are leaving. Ireland is its own country whether you like it or not."

Arthur kept his ground, his expression feigning boredom, the opposite of the desperation and madness occurring inside him as he replayed the loss of Alfred in his mind.

"_I'm no longer a child, nor your little brother!"_

"_From now on, consider me independent!"_

"_You used to be so great…"_

Arthur looked down, unable to face his brother.

The other sighed, getting up. Before he went to the door, he paused, turning. "What happened to the Kirkland in you? Where did your fight go? Or are you just to sad an excuse to care anymore about what happens to you?" The door shut, causing a tremor to go through the house and knocking a glass onto the floor. Arthur got up, expression of boredom still etched in his features. He knelt down next to the shards, picking one up. He remembered one time when Alfred was younger, that he had dropped a glass similar to this one. Arthur smiled at the memory. He was still picking up everyone else's mess before his own. He always had to pick up the pieces; nobody else was going to bother when they knew Arthur was still there. The blond sighed; he was so _tired_. Tired of the insults, tired of the numb, tired of _trying so hard to excel but then having everything shoved in his face he couldn't breathe someone help me I'm exhausted…_

He still never shed a tear. Even after everything, he listened to his brothers' words of wisdom.

He had to keep respect for the family name, right?

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><p>"Mon ami, Angleterre, you don't look so well." Francis wasn't stupid, as love-struck as he was he was the farthest thing from being stupid. He could see apparent illness in the younger nation's appearance, from the even paler skin, slightly concave cheeks and the dead look in the former vibrant green orbs.<p>

"I am fine, Francis. Sod off, I'm in no mood to listen today, I have to meet with my boss." Arthur's curt response didn't faze the Frenchman as much as it should. Had he looked closer, he would have easily seen the growing fear deep within the emerald irises.

"Ah, your boss is a rather hard worker, non? He is really helping you to greatness, as much as it pains me to say it. He's a good man."

Arthur stopped in his tracks. Of course Francis would think he's a good man, he hasn't seen much of him! "Yes…I suppose he's got his priorities straight." Were those _his_ shoulders trembling slightly, now? At a time like _this_?

_Don't let Francis see your pathetic weakness._

"Well, as long as you're sure you're alright, Angleterre."

_Ask me. Make sure I'm sure. Please, help me, I can't do this anymore…_

"Yes, I'm fine."

_I need help._

"Okay Arthur, see you another time." He walked off.

_Don't go, please._

Arthur continued to where his boss was meeting him, the trembling getting stronger and stronger. Why couldn't Francis see?

_He doesn't care about slime like _you_, you disgusting waste of space. How could _anyone_ care about you? You're nothing._

He lost more of the sparkle in his eyes as the voice in his head made an appearance again. He was used to it; it was his subconscious giving him the punishment he deserved for being so useless.

_Help me._

**AN: Okay! Hopefully it's painfully obvious how depressed Arthur is, and how he can't say anything due to his "failing" nature. He's trying to prove he's strong. His boss is awful, isn't he? :P I hope you liked this, and review with any thoughts you may have! Thanks for reading! :D**


	8. Meeting

**Meeting**

**AN: Hello everyone! Thank you SO MUCH for all the alerts, favorites and reviews I've been getting! Here's the next chapter! This is a pretty important part of the story because there is a meeting. Yes, _that_ meeting that has been put off long enough! :D I hope you see the character personality-twist thing I've put in here (you'll see!) and I hope you get what it means ^.^ Also, we're jumping past a lot of time because I really want to move this along, so I hope you don't mind!**

**WARNING: Depression, suicidal thoughts, self-depreciation/self-hate, and likely one of the saddest chapters yet**

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING.**

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><p>Arthur groaned as he came to after the night's sleep. The Blitz was taking a lot out of him, as he felt his ribs move and crack with each breath. His legs were in awkward angles as well from being crushed as the German soldiers bombarded him with attacks. The worst by far though would be the increase of pain to his heart. It felt as if his individual cells were melting and burning and <em>dying<em> while the open wounds were met with salt and lemon juice and acid and-

Breathe. He needed to breathe. He couldn't die, not now, not during a war. He sighed, and winced as he felt his ribs scream in protest to his inhalation.

_Even my own body wants me to stop breathing…_

God, he was so _tired_ of these thoughts. They wouldn't go away no matter what; they were always whispering in his ear, remnding him how worthless he was to everyone and everything. Nothing made him happy anymore; he never did any embroidery (too feminine), he never read unless it was a letter or new law (too much interest and time was needed to be given, time that should be spent on proving yourself), and cooking? That was a rarity that was only done when his boss was very far away. He mostly survived on tea and whatever he was given at meetings and work. It had gotten harder as the war went on with the rationing of food and supplies, but he could handle it. He had to, or he'd become even more of a lost cause than he already was.

He just had no interest in anything he used to like, anymore. Those who say anything wrong paid no attention to him, and often turned away from his silent pleas for help. He had always been lean and slender, why should they show concern if nothing was out of the ordinary?

He remembered the Great War well; that was far worse than this by a long shot. He was better prepared for the wounds this time around, whereas in the early twentieth century, he had nearly died from the trauma his body went through daily from the constant deaths of his people and land. He was never admitted to the hospital as his boss made him join his men and fight for what was left of England. Fighting for what he didn't want.

Why couldn't I have died then?

Arthur smiled to himself; he could never keep the voice out for long.

"Mister Kirkland, sir!" A rather young looking man waved as he ran over to the blond man.

"Yes?"

"I have this letter for you, I was told it was very important to the future of the war and you needed to read it immediately, and then you are to report to your commander." So that's what his boss called himself.

"I see…well, thank you, I will read it now." He said goodbye and walked into his office, the piece of paper burning his heavy hand. Heavy because any weight on him was a burden, he was a burden and needed to leave. He would too, immediately after the war. He would do it, and he wouldn't be a coward. He could follow things through to the end.

Shakilly inhaling, he opened the envelope and began to read the letter;

_Dear England/Arthur,_

_ Well, you have what you wanted; I'm joining your stupid war. I don't want to, but at this point I have no choice, now do I? I don't know if you are aware, but my country was given a formal invitation to join the European crap you have going on in the form of destroying Pearl Harbor, courtesy of Japan. I can't even write this now without shaking from this rage. I know there's a meeting coming up, so I guess I will see you there to discuss my awesome plans for success! I hope this doesn't turn out to be like that last War, Arthur. Or should I call you England? I can't be sure, anymore. Later, dude._

_ Sincerely, Alfred F. Jones/America_

Arthur's own hands were shaking. Alfred had written him a letter? He looked at the writing; definitely his handwriting. His lifeless green eyes widened and the tiniest spark of life returned to them. Alfred was trying to communicate again? It had been years since that war, their first attempt at rekindling any relationship at all rather than glaring across a table as they had during the nineteenth century.

Remembering the next part of his duty, he kept a stiff upper lip and walked to the office in which his boss was stationed, letter in tow. He knocked, and entered when he heard the gruff "come in".

"Good afternoon, sir. I have just received word-"

"I didn't call you here to listen to your disgustingly awful voice buzz about on my precious time!" Arthur stood straighter, cursing himself; he should have known better. "I am well aware of that letter, the President and I have been in contact since the incident. That letter was from a few days ago, actually."

"If that is the case, why am I only receiving it now, sir?"

"You weren't satisfactory with your work; you've been slacking off as you do whatever in your office. Oh, I guess I should tell you that you will be attending multiple meetings with France, China, Russia and America in the future and I expect that it will go on with no accidents or there will be consequences."

"Sir, you can't really-"

"Are you questioning my authority?" The man was standing, a red tint painting his face from anger. Arthur slunk back to avoid looking at all threatening. "Have I not made you who you are? I have made Great Britain into a power just behind America! Do you even have a _clue_ how _difficult_ that was? How many people died for it to happen and how much work it took? I do believe you are taking my gifts for granted, Mister Kirkland. Now, get out of my sight before just looking at you makes me do something I _should _regret." Arthur didn't need to be told twice and left the room, his unspoken protests dead on his pale lips. Honestly, he should know better than to voice anything other than agreement. He had tried in the beginning, but it proved to be too painful. If he tried anytime in the present, the pain caused would kill him if he hadn't already.

He decided with a sad sigh that he may as well prepare for the meeting he had been notified about to give his mind something to do for once other than give himself more reasons to die.

* * *

><p>"Bonjour, Angleterre." Francis spoke from his seat at the long table. "How have you been lately?" His acent highly noticeable with the sentence.<p>

In return, Arthur glared. "I don't see why my business has anything to do with you, _frog_."

"Ah, Britain you wound me so."

Arthur took his seat and took out some papers that he was told to use and discuss. Ater a moment, quick footsteps were heard down the hall.

"Sorry I'm late dudes!"

_Alfred_.

He set his stuff down and grinned before saying "Alright, let's get this party rockin'!" Alfred, being the character he was instantly made the awkward air less tense. Sure, they'd had meetings before but Alfred hadn't been a part of them until now. The other nations had feared him being different after such a painful blow, but if he was at all hurt he was hiding it well.

England could respect that.

The meeting went on with Alfred in control, claiming to be the "hero" as he gave them tactics and strategies to win. After many long hours of yelling and little to no progress, it was decided that they needed to take a break.

The day before, Arthur had decided to take some of the time he was given to prepare for the meeting to make scones, if only because he remembered once upon a time Alfred had liked them. Of course, he never cooked anymore so he forgot the recipe at parts and had to search the depths of his memory for the ingredients. Even after all of his attempts, they were somewhat burnt and tasted like nothing. The Briton could only sigh and accept it. It was all he could do.

At the break, he decided to eat one as a substitute for lunch (no slacking, word would get back to England when he returned). Of course, others noticed.

"Angleterre, you still make scones after all these years?" Francis questioned as he reached to take one. Biting into it, his face contorted a bit before he swallowed audibly, proving it was hard to do so. "England, what are you doing over there? These are terrible! If you want cooking lessons just say so, don't eat this _garbage_!" He shook his head in exasperation, blond hair going in his face with the movements. "I know English food is pathetic at best, but really, Britain?"

England only glared at the Frenchman, unable to completely process his thoughts. The life that had started to reenter his once-brilliant eyes disappeared in that instant.

_At least I tried, this is the most I've done in years. Please don't think little of me, I don't think I could handle it much more…even now; I'm leaving after the war…_

The other nations joined on France's taunts, laughing at the island nation's expense completely oblivious to his internal conflict.

_You can't do anything. This is what happens when you try. Why do you think you've been shoved all your life? You're inadequate and pathetic. You're nothing. The world will be better when you're gone._

That settled it for him.

He was leaving immediately after the war.

Of course, time is a funny thing. People barely notice it passing by and pay it no attention unless it is needed. That being said, Arthur didn't look up in time after his decision to notice a pair of bright blue eyes looking at him worriedly behind a pair of glasses. He was a second too late, and now, the clock was ticking.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Poor Arthur…I guess that because he and Alfred are my favorites I just love to make them sad... Thank you for reading! It picks up a lot more from here, I promise! :D <strong>


	9. Breaking

**Breaking**

**AN: OMG GUYS. I CAN'T BELIEVE HOW MANY REVIEWS I GOT LAST CHAPTER. I REALLY CAN'T. I can't thank all of you enough! Not to mention the number of people who put this on alert AND favorited! THANK YOU **_**SO**_** MUCH! I'm glad everyone likes this story so much! :D Here, we finally have a certain American joining as a real character! Hope you like this chapter! **

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING.**

* * *

><p>As the war progressed, more meetings were held between the Allied Powers. These meetings were often filled with brief discussions that made progress, and arguments between Arthur and Francis. Alfred added to the meetings with his ideas for battle tactics while exclaiming that he would be the hero and save everyone. Arthur couldn't help but internally chuckle at his naivety.<p>

"Angleterre," Francis began, peering over at Arthur. "You haven't had much input in today's discussion. Have you been paying attention?"

Arthur looked up at the blonde with tired eyes; he obviously hadn't been sleeping well. It wasn't out of the ordinary for the green-eyed Brit to have bags under his eyes; they'd been present for many years now as time went on. Most who came in contact with him thought it was his own fault, for he often got drunk and wasted time. Of course they were completely wrong; He was _only_ drunk when everything got to be a _little_ too much for him to handle and he needed _some_ form of escape from his hellish life. He barely ever drank; he didn't have the time with all the work his boss made him do. His only chances were the giant parties thrown by his boss that he had to attend and listen to all the remarks made at his expense.

Luckily, he remembered none.

"Sod off, Francis," Arthur managed a menacing glare through his grogginess. "I'm not in the mood."

"Ah, but Angleterre, you're not in the mood for much these days. Are you in need of a vacation?"

Oh, how Arthur wanted to say _yes_. He wanted to say yes and spill everything to get help. He knew wanting to die wasn't normal for anyone, even nations. Even so, he bit his tongue and stayed silent. They didn't care about his petty problems, anyway.

"If I needed a vacation, I think I would discuss the matter with my boss rather than a frog, thank you very much." Arthur huffed. Francis shot him a look that screamed he knew Arthur was blatantly lying, but didn't press further for he valued his face. The others began to clear out for the lunch break they had decided for, leaving Arthur to his thoughts.

Everyone, except a particular blond American.

"Hiya Artie!"

Arthur, who had been walking out the door with proud posture immediately, slumped with the dreaded nickname. He had to, or else the others would start talking. He acted like he absolutely detested the nicknames he was constantly given, it was a way to remain cold to those who would cut him down further than he already was. In reality, he adored the names; he felt loved, if only for a millisecond.

"Hello, Alfred and its Arthur, not 'Artie', I don't know how many times I need to repeat myself in order for you to finally hear me." _Is it because I'm not worth listening to? Am I more unimportant than I already thought?_ He had one more thought, but didn't allow himself to dwell on it.

_Is it because you _care_?_

Alfred's smile stayed placed on his face, even though it fell from where it reached his bright eyes.

"Sorry, Arthur." His blushed, bashful now. "I was only wondering if you wanted to grab a bit to eat with me!"

Arthur sighed, turning around to face the American. It was hard to believe they used to be so close, and now…well, no point in opening old wounds.

"I have a lot of work to do-" He was cut off.

"Wait, you have work to do? This is work itself! Who gave you more?"

The Brit sighed, not wanting to talk about it but knowing he had to. "It's nothing, honest. I just need to catch up on some things along with regulations that must be made while leading my troops in the war." He sighed, realizing how much he had to do in no time at all.

Alfred looked at the other blond, trying to read his face. He noticed the fall of his stoic expression for that moment. He wasn't as dumb as people cut him out to be, he noticed things if he tried hard enough. Reading the atmosphere just wasn't his forte.

"Please, Iggy?" He begged. "You need a break, dude. You can't change the whole world in a day, trust me, a hero would totally know that." He finished with a small smile, knowing Arthur couldn't refuse.

Arthur sighed, knowing his fight was over and, as usual, he lost miserably. "Fine, but you better not drag me to some greasy fast-food place, alright? Something _decent_, if you please."

Alfred's smile somehow managed to life the Briton's spirits as his hand was grabbed and he was all but dragged into the hallway to a restaurant in London.

* * *

><p>"What do ya think, Iggs?" Alfred asked when they had settled in a little family-owned restaurant in the city. Arthur smiled, and Alfred was quick to notice it reached nowhere near his eyes.<p>

"I'm surprised you didn't fight for your greasy burgers or whatever you eat, but I must admit this is nice."

The waitress arrived to take their drink orders, Arthur going with his usual tea and Alfred getting a coke. She returned as they were attempting to make small talk.

"…and that's why I think we should follow my plan! If you go in suicidal, they'll be totally occupied and I can swoop in and save the world in my hero style!"

"Alfred, that's idiotic. Just…no."

"But Art-"

"No."

Alfred pouted and slumped in his chair, waiting for their food to come so the rest of his brilliant ideas wouldn't get bashed for being "crazy" or "dumb". Arthur was just being mean.

Finally, finally, the food came and Alfred was about to devour it when he noticed the expression on his companion's face. He was one hundred percent shocked, his dulled eyes wide and his mouth slightly apart.

"Er, Artie, is everything okay?"

Arthur, realizing he wasn't alone, snapped out of his trance and looked at the American's concerned face. _What's _he_ so worried about? I'm perfectly fine, I can hold my own._

"Oh, um, yes, yes everything is fine, why would you ask?"

"Your face is white as a sheet, dude."

"Oh, so it is…I just haven't eaten this much food in forever, that's all. It's quite a lot." In reality, it was a normal portion. Arthur was just used to eating so little it seemed like a grand feast.

Alfred didn't question it, but he made a mental note to ask about it later when Arthur was more…normal.

The pair ate in silence, Alfred wolfing down his food as Arthur picked at his. At one point, Arthur ate a little more and realized how hungry he was and ended up doing the same as Alfred. The American, completely shocked by Arthur's behavior, watched with wide eyes as Arthur ate as if it was his last meal.

What Alfred didn't know was that it very well could be before he ended everything.

Once Arthur was finished, he was still really hungry but decided against ordering more food. He knew Alfred was watching him intently now, ever since his first slip. He wasn't about to become a charity case for the boy, so his mouth was kept shut.

His first thought was how great it felt to be free from the constricting rules and scrutiny of his boss to be able to actually sit down and eat a full meal. He hadn't done that in forever, which made his immortality as a nation a godsend; he'd be dead from starvation had he been a human, he was more than certain. He was glad he was a natural at hiding his thoughts behind expressionless features. It was thoughts like these that made him wish he could die; he'd be free and away from all this pain and hurt constantly being dealt at him. He wanted it gone.

"Ready to go back?"

Of course, now he had a loudmouthed American watching him somewhat, so he'd have to come up with a pretty foolproof and top-secret plan to free himself if he ever expected to finally escape his hell.

**AN: I hope I'm not rambling too much when I'm trying to show all of Arthur's pain, I just want it to be undeniable so when things get better, it will be a **_**lot**_** better. There's still a long way to go from here, but tell me your thoughts! I love reading them! :D **


	10. Finalizing

**Finalizing**

**AN: Hello again everyone! This has been a rough summer, I have so much to do and it's just not getting done so I'm sorry about the lack of updates! Hopefully this will make it up to you! On that note, thank you SO much to everyone who reviewed, alerted and favorited! I'm so glad you like this story so much! Well, onwards with my story, in which much-anticipated events begin to unfold :D**

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING.**

**WARNING: Physical and **_**intense**_** verbal abuse, self-depreciation**

* * *

><p>As the weeks passed on, Alfred and Arthur ate together on a somewhat regular basis. Arthur was just doing it to be polite as a gentleman should be, but Alfred had other reasons; he'd seen. He saw the loose clothing; he saw the dulled, pain-filled eyes lose more brightness every passing minute. What he didn't see was <em>Arthur<em>. The Arthur he knew was a man that fought for what he knew was right and never gave up. He had a fiery spirit leftover from his pirate days, yet was kind and just towards those he loved. The man he saw now…he was an imposter. Alfred just didn't know what to say about it.

Now, as the pair found themselves in another restaurant for the welcomed lunch break, the silence was a little too much for Alfred to handle. He wasn't stupid, he knew things. He knew Arthur was thinking, but about what was still unknown. Alfred could only hope his thoughts weren't too self-depreciating.

"Artie?"

"Yes Alfred."

Alfred internally winced at the tone and the response. Arthur _hated_ being called Artie. Normally, he'd have been reprimanded for the nickname but today…his tone had a dejected undertone to it, making Alfred worry more than usual. Sure, Arthur had been gaining some weight back from being so underweight, and he was getting a little stronger every day from that gain, but wasn't that tone a sign of something _bigger_? Don't people usually try to make themselves appear happy to others to hide their real pain?

Was Arthur giving up?

"How long do you think the Axis Powers can keep this up? I mean, it's really only Germany and Japan now, poor Feli…" He shook his head. The poor Italian nation had been greatly damaged from the war and Feliciano had to protect his people, even if it bruised his conscience.

Arthur sighed deeply, eyes down at his small plate with his rations on it. "I'm hoping not too much longer."

Alfred looked out the window next to him. "Same here, but Roosevelt said a while ago that the only way the war will end is if the Germans surrender unconditionally." He looked back at Arthur, who was still staring at the plate. "You think they'll surrender?"

"If they do, it will be in the future, I don't know if it's a near future or a far-off one, but it won't be very soon."

Alfred slumped in his seat slightly and then picked himself back up. "Well, enough of the serious talk! This is supposed to be a break from that!"

"It's hard for this to be a break if we're getting rations even here."

Alfred huffed. "Well, cut them up into smaller pieces so it looks like you have more."

Arthur looked up at him then, eyes slightly wider than usual. He did as Alfred said and gave a small smile.

Alfred wasn't fooled though. He knew a real smile met one's eyes, and this smile was nowhere near his eyes.

* * *

><p>He was gaining all the weight back. When he went home, it would become noticeable that he'd spent time actually <em>eating<em> rather than working. His current boss, a man just as kind as each past one he'd been lucky to have, seemed to suspect as such but did nothing, much to Arthur's relief. Arthur had no idea why he got stuck with the people he got for his bosses, often wondering why he couldn't have one like Churchill or Roosevelt. Maybe they wouldn't make him feel guilty about being himself. On the outside, Arthur had perfected his charade. He didn't take anything from anyone and made himself to be a great power, even if America was the world's superpower at the moment. He was strong and opinionated with a spark from his pirate days while still being a gentleman.

The inside was a whole other story.

Choking. That's what it felt like. He felt everything constricting in him as he just wished for things to get better. He used to be a pirate for goodness sakes! Why was he allowing an uptight human to ruin him when he had once been the most feared man in Europe? It was preposterous, really.

_Or maybe you finally realized how pathetic you've become, how now you're nothing compared to everyone else if even a _human_ can point out your flaws._

Then there was _this_, the voice whispering in his mind everything he didn't want to think about lest he lose his sanity. It was constant too, whenever he raised his hand to give an idea, whenever he was talking to someone else, whenever he was eating. He could never do anything without feeling guilty.

Eating with Alfred didn't help much. Arthur could tell Alfred was trying to make him gain weight so when he went back to England, he would be crushed. He couldn't sleep at night anymore with this knowledge, and the fact that his soldiers were also out there and didn't know if they'd return. On many occasions Arthur wished he could trade spots with one of them to save one of their lives, a life worth living. He was too tainted and pathetic to be called "worthwhile" anymore and he knew it. His bosses, past present and likely future, all made sure he knew that.

Sitting across from the American nation, this was only magnified. Had his current boss been there, he would have made Alfred look like the King of the World and Arthur the lowest there could ever be, just to prove that there was always someone better than him. He could visualize it and that was just as bad as experiencing it.

"Artie? You okay?"

What was with the nickname? Was it to make him seem even more inferior to Alfred? Was it a joke that only he didn't know about? Was it an insult? Arthur wouldn't allow himself to believe it was a name made out of fondness. It would lead to hope and hope led to crushed dreams and more of _those_ thoughts.

"Yes you bloody prat I'm _fine_. _Perfectly_ fine."

Arthur may have been blind to his problems, but Alfred sure wasn't.

* * *

><p>Exhaustion was ever present in the faces of the Allies, but it was overshadowed by joy. Germany had surrendered; the war in Europe was over. It was <em>done<em>.

Alfred, who still had the Pacific front against Japan, hid his ongoing stress and allowed himself to celebrate with the rest of the Allied Powers and their people. His time to truly celebrate would come soon enough.

The blond heard laughter and turned his head towards the sound. He knew from the forcedness of the noise that it came from Arthur as he laughed at something Alfred hadn't heard. Alfred's smile faded slightly as he watched the once proud man basically scream out for help.

_I _want_ to help you. I just don't know the problem or how to do it…_

He sighed. Some hero he was turning out to be if he couldn't save Arthur. He was supposed to save everyone in trouble! Didn't that make Arthur a priority? His eyes widened and he felt a shiver go up his spine at his next realization;

Was he too late?

* * *

><p>Arthur felt his hands become clammy from his nerves as he saw his boss with his graying hair slicked back and wearing one of his many suits approach him with a bored expression. Arthur gulped. That usually meant something was wrong, and in translation, <em>he<em> did something wrong.

"H-hello sir." Arthur slapped himself internally for sounding afraid. That was always a bad idea.

The other man narrowed his eyes. "Still timid and weak, I see. I had hoped that a war would toughen you up. How you managed to hold out until the Americans came is beyond me." He snorted. "You'd probably be dead had that Jones kid not saved your arse. No matter, we'd likely be better off anyways." The nonchalant way he was speaking managed to slice Arthur's self-worth into irreparable shreds as Arthur only took it. In response, the green eyes looked down, ashamed.

On cue, Alfred sauntered over with a silly grin on his face in an obvious attempt to lighten the mood.

"Hiya Artie! This your boss or just someone else?" The blond gestured to the man who was not-so-discreetly comparing the two blond nations.

"Um, yes, Alfred, this would be my boss."

"Well then hello there, sir! I'm Alfred F. Jones!" He put his hand out for the man to shake.

His boss followed. "Pleasure. So, you're the hero of the war, hmm? I guess I should thank you for helping Arthur. God knows what would have happened to him had you not arrived." Rage built in Arthur's core. How _dare_ this man act like he cared about him in front of Alfred? He had no right to tell Arthur he was nothing and then care about him in a mere_ two minutes_!

Oblivious to Arthur's internal distress, Alfred laughed heartily in response. "Arthur doesn't need to be saved, sir." Arthur didn't see the knowing look Alfred gave him as he heard everything in him shatter. Oh God, nobody cared, did they? Everything was turning against him and nobody was even asking if he was okay. _God_, it had been years, _decades_ even since he'd heard anyone truly ask him "are you alright?". His chest felt like it was being bashed in, there was so much _pain_ and for _what_? A simple confirmation of everything he knew to be true? He was stronger than this…

He _was_ stronger than this, _right_?

* * *

><p>After a few more awkward encounters with others, Arthur was left alone with the man he was stuck with as a boss again.<p>

"It's nice that that Alfred boy thinks you don't need to be saved. He obviously is too young and naïve, but no matter. Good company for you, maybe you'll learn something about being a decent being so I actually have someone worthwhile to look at."

In a sudden surge of fury, Arthur looked up with acidic and defiant eyes. "Will you just _stop_ already? I'm not America, I'm not Alfred! I can't become them, I'm me! I've always been me and I don't know why that's not good enough anymore! Do you find joy in tormenting me? Harassing me? Are you so insecure with yourself that you have to make me feel like nothing to make yourself feel better about yourself?" By the end of his little rant, Arthur was fighting frustrated tears which made him even more upset. He was told to never cry, and he wasn't about to break just because this sorry excuse was making him distraught.

Bored brown eyes stared back at him throughout the outburst, making Arthur shrink back. The man picked up a glass of what seemed to be whiskey and drank it as Arthur looked on, becoming more anxious as each second ticked by. He set the glass down, and looked back at his country's personification. Why was he stuck with _this_ one?

Arthur never saw it coming, but he did hear the smacking sound as his cheek was met with the forceful slap of the pale hand that had been on the glass seconds before. The force of it sent him reeling and his head went to the right, and when he looked up he was met with a blow to the head as he went down to the hardwood floor. He looked up from below to see a black suit move down to his level.

"Don't you _dare_ speak to me like that." The voice was menacing and made Arthur honestly fear for his life as he saw the brown eyes narrow in pure red rage. "I don't know about your past superiors, but I won't take that in the least bit. You really want to know why I treat you like nothing? Because you truly are _nothing_. You could just leave and I guarantee not a _single_ soul on this planet would care. Don't think for a second I don't know you feel all hurt inside. It's your own fault for being so sensitive to simple criticism that I give because I _pity_ you for being so weak that even _France_ calls you the Black Sheep of Europe! That is an insult to me as well because _I'm_ forced to be associated with you! Don't think for a second you are the least bit better than me, because let me tell you I could crush you and everything you hold dear in an instant." He felt a kick to his ribs and he was lifted by his neck with one hand off the floor as _everything_ spun from the lack of air and oxygen and _can't breathe_- "Stop pretending to have pride. You have nothing." The free hand met Arthur's nose as the sickening sound of his nose being broken or something of the sort was heard and he was forced back down to the floor, head hitting the floor with enough force to make the glass fall and shatter, some glass shards finding their way to Arthur's arms.

"Clean yourself up. I'm done here." He left with hard footsteps hitting the floor and the slam of the door shutting.

Arthur stayed on the floor for a few more moments, feeling numb over everything. He had just been stripped of every last thing he had to stay sane and now…there was nothing. It was fitting in a way; he was nothing so he should have nothing. Slowly, he picked himself up as dizziness overcame him and he nearly fell again. Through his numbness, _everything _hurt. It was overpowering to the point where he just wanted to collapse again. He wouldn't let himself though, as he made the long way back home alone, fighting off his closing eyelids as he went on. He just wanted to be happy again. It had been _so_ long. What would it be like, to feel as if he was on cloud nine? Would he laugh? Cry? It was too distant for him to visualize.

By the time he got to his home in England, it had begun pouring outside and he was soaked to his core, shivering violently. Drips of water fell from his face with a red tint as he stepped inside his home after so many years of being away due to the war. He closed the door and turned to look inside his home. With a gasp, he collapsed again as another bout of dizziness overtook him. _Why was he so disgusting?_ He tried so hard and it wasn't even _close_ to being enough!

His sole form of comfort was that the war had finally ended. He was free from that, which meant he could _finally_ leave. He'd already been told it was alright in the form of "nobody would care you were gone".

Sitting against the door to his house in soaking wet garments, for the first time since the Revolutionary war, Arthur allowed himself to cry.

Besides, where he was going, he'd never need to cry again.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: That was <strong>_**so **_**hard to write…I had to stop a few times to collect myself before starting again actually…well, the war ended. And England's boss is awful. I didn't go into all the details because I'm focusing more on emotions here and I don't want to be historically inaccurate! :P Review with your thoughts please, and thank you all for reading! :D**


	11. End

**End**

**AN: I'm back with the inevitable! My apologies for how long this has taken me; with 3 ap classes and sports it's very hard to update quickly, so thank you all for all this support! It's amazing to see how many people read this and like it enough to favorite, review or alert so thank you all so much! I hope this doesn't disappoint! Without further ado, here's the next installment! It's going to be somewhat short because I want to make a single point but I hope you still like it! :D**

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING.**

**WARNING: Suicide, self-depreciation**

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><p>There was something…<em>off<em> about England's boss. Alfred was _extremely _uncomfortable communicating with the aging man and from what he saw, Arthur was too. The reason why was still unknown to him, but at the moment he wasn't concerned with that yet. What he was _really_ worried about was Arthur in general. He hadn't seen the other nation leave the celebratory party since he'd left earlier due to his ongoing dilemma in the Pacific. He hoped Arthur had been okay after meeting _that_ guy. Perhaps it would be a good idea to check on the British man and make sure he was doing okay after the party.

It wouldn't hurt, right?

After a few more minutes of loud wailing, Arthur decided enough was enough. Still choking on his sobs and feeling weaker than ever because of it, he pulled himself off the floor and onto his feet again. He made his way into his study and sat down at his desk, taking a piece of paper from a random pile in the mess. It was customary for a goodbye letter, was it not? Or should he call?

He scratched that thought as he realized he'd have nobody to call, so the letter was his only option.

Who would he write to? Not his boss, he would never give that rotten excuse for a human being the satisfaction. He had no one…

_Wait…_

Alfred had spent some time with him during the war, building some sort of a relationship between them. Maybe it would be okay to send him a letter? He didn't want to bother Matthew, for he was spending lots of his time with Francis to catch up after being under his rule for so long. Francis would hardly care about the Briton's problems, since he was more powerful than the Brit.

No, Alfred would be it.

With that decided, he began to write:

_Dear Alfred,_

_ If by any chance you (or anyone for that matter) actually read this, I'll be gone. I guess the world will get what it's always wanted, me _finally _being gone. I can't bring myself to say dead, not yet; it's too hopeful. Hope's the last thing I need, even now. It's too hard to feel hopeful to be sent back down into another black hole for another decade or two. I've had enough. I'm so tired, Alfred. Exhausted to the point where I can't even function from all this stress. I know you probably won't read this, and I don't know why you would even want to because I wrote it and I'm me, a bloody pathetic excuse for a nation and_

_ …my apologies for that awful run-on. _

_ I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. I was always making your life harder in both of those Godforsaken world wars and now with this letter. I must be such a burden to you by now, and I can't handle that. There's not much I _can_ handle anymore I guess, no matter how minor it is. I'm honestly cringing as I read this, it sounds so pathetic. My apologies, again. I'm rambling now I see, and rambling is the sign when there is nothing else to write. I guess all there is left to say is goodbye. I hope your future has few problems as a nation and as a person, I hope you have a happy life for the rest of the days. I've had enough of mine._

_ Sincerely,_

_ Arthur Kirkland_

He reread it again countless times before scowling, crumpling it up and throwing it away into the trash can. Nobody needed to read that letter, it was pointless anyway. He got up and slowly walked to his room.

He really hadn't thought out his plan…

Deciding to do it without causing a scene, he opened his medicine cabinet in his bathroom. Looking around inside, he found a bottle of sleeping pills.

_Lovely…_

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><p>Alfred drove down the streets of England in search of Arthur's house outside London. It was pouring rain, a thunderstorm wreaking havoc on the island nation and making Alfred more on edge than before. He was getting even more worried about England as the minutes passed, but he still didn't have a clue what was wrong. He only knew something <em>was<em> wrong.

Arthur was Alfred's closest friend. As much as they fought, it was not true spite but just friendly bickering. Well, maybe not that exactly, but Alfred could tell that neither of them meant harm. He hoped Arthur knew that too, because Alfred could tell that Arthur was a little out of it. He may not be able to read the atmosphere, but he could just see it in his eyes and how he carried himself.

It hurt Alfred too, the Brit's pain. They had once been so close and then things in the colonies had gotten horrendous, and he had to help them even if it meant hurting his "older brother". From then on, they hadn't really seen each other as brothers and as the war of 1812 and his civil war had come and thankfully gone, things between the two nations had gotten rather awkward. By the Great War, they were forced to speak to each other and an acquaintanceship was made after many interesting encounters. With the Second World War, they became closer as Alfred tried to help his friend. Now, he didn't know what was going to happen next.

After pulling into the driveway, Alfred got out of his car and pulled his jacket closer to him to keep in the heat. He walked to the door and knocked, hoping there would be an answer.

Nothing.

He tried the doorknob and was somewhat surprised to see it unlocked, but then again Arthur had likely been in a rush to get out of the rain and into dry clothes. He didn't think much of it, turning it fully to enter.

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><p>Arthur took a shaky breath, eyes closing. His hand with the bottle was trembling with the realization of what was about to happen. He was about to get rid of all the pain, he was about to be <em>free<em>.

He unscrewed the cap and placed one in his hand before swallowing it with the glass of water on the counter. He repeated the action as the bottle became lighter and lighter all while fighting more frustrated tears from escaping. He was done crying over nothing when it could be solved.

He sat on the side of the bathtub, face in his hands, taking shuddering breaths. His thoughts went to his breathing, wondering which one would be his last. Arthur stayed like that, sitting in the silent dark room as he waited to die.

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><p>"Artie?" Alfred had been looking everywhere, currently in Arthur's bedroom. It was one of the last places Arthur could be, he'd checked the kitchen, living room, parlor, and basement. All that was left was the bathroom.<p>

"You better be okay Artie, or so help me God…" He whispered to himself as he made his way up to the bathroom. Each step felt like a lifetime, and he was dreading what he would see for he knew something was terribly wrong.

**AN: Yeah, not too proud of this but I've been very stressed lately so I truly hope you can forgive me! I will try really hard to get the next chapter up, but in the meantime thank you for reading! Have a great week! :)**


	12. Help

**Help**

**AN: Hello again everyone! Thanks for being so kind and for bearing with me, it means so much that you all like this so much! :D We still have a fair ways to go so sit tight and enjoy! Well, without further ado, here's chapter 12, which you have all been dying to read and for that I thank you from the bottom of my heart!**

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING.**

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><p>Alfred knew life wasn't easy. He'd experienced enough life to know that better than most, what with the war that made him a nation, the war that nearly split him apart and the Great Depression. Things got hard sometimes, and even when he wanted to give up and watch, he knew even at his young age that the difficulties paved the way for greatness. For that reason, he continued to stand tall.<p>

However, he knew that not everyone could stand tall forever. Sometimes life got the best of some people if the blows were extremely hard or frequent. They often fell and had trouble gathering the courage needed to stand back up if it was going to happen again. Alfred knew everyone experienced this fall in their lifetimes.

So when Alfred walked to the bathroom and shakily opened the door, he couldn't exactly tell what he was seeing.

Arthur, knees pulled up to his chest with his head laying on top, shaking like a leaf and seemingly oblivious to Alfred's presence.

Alfred's heart dropped at the sight. Arthur was one of the strongest people he knew! What was-

Oh.

His boss.

Alfred wanted to scream. It was so obvious! How could he have missed it? Arthur had tried to indicate to him and he hadn't noticed. What kind of hero was he if he couldn't save his friends?

Alfred looked around the dark room to see why he was in the bathroom of all places. He saw a black outline on the counter, and walked over to pick it up. He turned it to see its contents as described on the label.

_Sleeping Pills_.

Alfred broke out in a sweat. This couldn't be happening if what he believed was true. He looked around again, trying to find an indication that _he was wrong and Arthur wasn't doing this…_

Next to Arthur was a trashcan with only a crumpled paper in it and his attention was drawn. The rainstorm outside had become a thunderstorm, filling the room with loud booms to drown any sound of Alfred picking the paper out.

It was a letter, addressed to him:

_Dear Alfred,_

_If by any chance you (or anyone for that matter) actually read this, I'll be gone. I guess the world will get what it's always wanted, me finally being gone. I can't bring myself to say dead, not yet; it's too hopeful. Hope's the last thing I need, even now. It's too hard to feel hopeful to be sent back down into another black hole for another decade or two. I've had enough. I'm so tired, Alfred. Exhausted to the point where I can't even function from all this stress. I know you probably won't read this, and I don't know why you would even want to because I wrote it and I'm me, a bloody pathetic excuse for a nation and_

_ …my apologies for that awful run-on. _

_ I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. I was always making your life harder in both of those Godforsaken world wars and now with this letter. I must be such a burden to you by now, and I can't handle that. There's not much I can handle anymore I guess, no matter how minor it is. I'm honestly cringing as I read this, it sounds so pathetic. My apologies, again. I'm rambling now I see, and rambling is the sign when there is nothing else to write. I guess all there is left to say is goodbye. I hope your future has few problems as a nation and as a person, I hope you have a happy life for the rest of the days. I've had enough of mine._

_ Sincerely,_

_ Arthur Kirkland_

It was then that Alfred finally knew that this was real and Arthur was really…

"Oh my God, Arthur!"

Said man lifted his head from his knees and met the panicked stare of Alfred. His stomach churned and his heartbeat sped up as he realized his plan was likely not going to be carried out.

"What are you doing here?! What could you possibly want?!" Arthur yelled at him from the floor as Alfred crouched down next to him.

"You're not actually okay, are you Arthur?" Alfred ignored his question and instead took on a saddened tone as he finally saw Arthur's brokenness.

Of course, Arthur would have none of that pity business.

"What gives you the right to barge in here? It's my house and- Hey, let me go!" Alfred had maneuvered his arms to go around the Briton in a hug as tears fell from his eyes. He wasn't about to lose a friend while he could do something. He'd be a hero and save him or die trying.

"No, I won't let go."

Arthur was growing frantic as his resolve was crashing. "You-! Let go of me this instant! Don't you understand I need to do this? Everything will be so much better!" His struggles became more and more in vain as his will to escape got weaker and weaker.

Alfred tightened his arms in response. "No, Arthur, I'm not letting a friend die if I have a say in it."

The Brit pushed him away with all the force he had left and stood up on shaky legs, tears falling much to his embarrassment. Alfred stood too.

"No, you don't understand! You have no say! I can't deal with this anymore, I'm tired of this! I can't, I can't-" He had started hyperventilating as he thought about living through this pain for even a second longer, and with his stomach twisting and lack of air, he leaned over and vomited everything in his stomach, including the pills.

Alfred rubbed his back as he threw up, trying to give the comfort that he'd been denied for years on end. As Arthur sat back up, taking deep breaths, he realized what had just happened.

"Why would you _do_ this to me?!" Arthur shoved Alfred's chest away from him as he screamed at him. "I was _finally_ going to be free! Why would you take that away from me? Why do you hate me so much? I _just_ want to go." He collapsed from the sheer lack of energy in his system from everything that had happened in just mere minutes. As he fell, Alfred fell to catch him.

"Arthur, I don't hate you."

"Then why can't you just let me die?" The small question was whispered, and Arthur looked down away from Alfred's face.

Alfred sighed, wondering how to word it. He'd never imagined having this conversation. "Artie, you're my friend first, then my ally. Do you have any idea how much the world would suffer if you died? Do you have any idea how many people would mourn you?"

"Nobody cares."

"No, Artie we do care. Alright, new example. Do you know how sad I would be? You're one of the only people who actually listens to me! Sure, we have our moments, but in the end you've always got my back." Alfred smiled, but as he saw Arthur's shoulders shake his smile faded. "Iggy, it's okay to cry. It doesn't make you any less of a man. Sometimes it's better to cry than to hold everything in."

With that, Arthur finally let out years' worth of pain as the thunder roared and rain hit the roof of the house. All went ignored as finally, Arthur actually felt hope for himself.

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><p><strong>AN: I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter to be honest, as I've never been in this position and I'm not sure if the relationship here is as platonic as I'd like because as of right now there isn't any romantic USUK because the plot has finally started to actually move :P Either way, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and don't worry! There is still more to come! Thanks for reading and thanks again for being so patient! :D <strong>


	13. Restart

**Chapter 13: Restart**

**AN: I hope everyone had a great Christmas and is enjoying themselves during this time of year! I would have updated sooner but I've been very busy and school has been really stressful even during vacation so I'm really sorry, and thank you all for being so patient! Although this chapter isn't the absolute greatest work in the world, it gives some nice story progression, character development and a nice Alfie speech ^.^ Well, here's the next part!**

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING.**

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><p>Alfred let Arthur cry for a while, rubbing his back and whispering "It's okay" and "You're okay" all the while. He didn't know how long it took for the tears to stop, but eventually they did.<p>

"You can go home now." Arthur's voice was hoarse. "Thank you."

Alfred loosed up his hug just enough to look down at Arthur, bewildered. "Why would I leave you now, of all times?"

Arthur tilted his head in confusion. "Well, why wouldn't you? I basically just shoved myself down your throat, any person in their right mind would have run screaming from my house by now."

Alfred gave him a sad grin. "You've always said I wasn't the brightest."

Arthur sighed. "I can see now how wrong I was, and I apologize."

"There's nothing to apologize for, Artie!"

Arthur looked down, ashamed. Alfred was so forgiving, so innocent and to just drag him into his problems-

"Hey, what's wrong?" His voice was concerned and broke through Arthur's thoughts.

"Hmm? Oh, nothing."

Alfred deadpanned. "I'm not falling for that again. You're going to tell me what's wrong okay? I'm going to fix you but you have to want it too."

Arthur looked up at him, eyes wide. Oh God, he'd actually have to voice everything that was wrong with him. They'd die before he was finished and they were immortal…

"Artie? I mean it. I'm here now, you're okay, it's gonna be okay. Please don't cry." The American brought him into another hug, again rubbing his back as he whispered, eventually bringing Arthur out of his trance.

Arthur pulled away from Alfred, scowling at the floor.

"Freaking emotions, I was doing so well with them," he rubbed his eyes and laughed, "Then you, of all people, come along and destroy every single wall I had left expecting me to magically become better. It's not going to happen! I physically can't do it because every single time I try or tings get better, someone comes and shoves me back down into nothing and I'm left alone. It always happens so if you could, please leave now so I can stop the cycle. Please, Alfred, I'm just so tired…" He trailed off as his eyes closed and he looked down, unaware to the pained look Alfred was giving him.

"Arthur."

He didn't look up, hoping Alfred would leave if he went ignored long enough.

"Arthur, look at me."

Nothing.

"Arthur, look at me." This time, Alfred grabbed Arthur's chin and raised it to meet his eyes, Arthur's own eyes opening with the movement.

"I don't expect you to get better in a single night, so don't think that. I don't expect you to tell me everything that is bothering you right now, so don't worry about that. What I do expect however is for you to someday realize how wrong you are about yourself. I'm going to show you what I see somehow. I don't know how yet, but I will. And when I do, you're going to be happy again, even if it takes years. I'm going to help you, but I can't do it alone. You have to be willing to let me in to help you. I know you've been hurt, and I'm so sorry I can't even word it correctly but right now none of that matters because it's done and in the past. From now on, I want you to look to the present and the future instead of the past. The past will only hurt you more. Please, for me? I don't like seeing my friends hurt." The look in his eyes at the end was full of so much determination that for a moment Arthur believed him.

Only for a moment.

"Alfred, how are you so wise when you're so young? I don't think you could have worded that any better."

Alfred smiled, not releasing is grip. "Artie, don't change the subject, okay? But thank you."

He sighed. "I'm used to changing the subject when this happens, you'll need to excuse that. I hope you're right, Alfred."

"I will be right if you want it."

"It'll be hard."

"I know."

"You're going to get frustrated with me and want to kill me yourself."

"As long as you don't anymore."

"But what if I go back?"

"Back?"

"Back to whatever this…stage or whatever it's called is. Or what if we can't do anything? I just don't want you getting tangled up in my problems when you have problems of your own that are more important."

Alfred smiled. "Dude, you're my friend. If anything happens, we'll get through it and I'll be here for you when you need me. If my president asks, I can say I'm working on world relations. He's a pretty good guy so he'd let me help anyway. As for other problems, if you mean running my country, that's why I have a president and I don't call all the shots. You're important too, and while I realize you don't think so right now, someday you will again. But for right now, let's take it one day at a time. You can't exactly _plan_ something like this, Art."

Arthur smiled as Alfred released his chin and returned the smile. He stood and helped the Brit up as well.  
>"I'm in the mood for some tea. Would you like some?"<p>

Normally, Alfred would have declined but for some reason, he couldn't say no.  
>"I'd love some."<p>

He was going to fix Arthur if it killed him, and he figured this was a start.

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><p><strong>AN: Yeah, I know, BORING FILLER IS BORING. I'm trying to keep them as friends but I will likely make it really cute and romantic later on (I have a plan!) Right now this isn't brotherly love, they're just friends. My "H" key isn't working so if there are any typos that I didn't pick up I'm sorry because half the time spellcheck does nothing for me. Many thanks to the HetaOni soundtrack for providing inspiration for me to write! Whoo! Thank you for reading this and I hope you have a great day! :D <strong>


	14. First

**Chapter 14: First**

**An: Hello again! I have inspiration right now so I decided to update :D Hope you like this chapter! The plot thickens and moves a little bit more than the last update! xD Anyways, here's the latest installment so enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING.**

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><p>A week had passed since the incident, as Arthur liked to put it, in the bathroom. Everything had gone back to the way it had been before, only now Alfred was there as well. Not much was done in that time, and Arthur liked to pretend nothing had happened and simply acted natural, ignoring any thoughts that plagued him.<p>

Alfred begged to differ. Arthur thought nothing was going on, but Alfred knew better. The other nations thought he was a clumsy oaf who couldn't read the atmosphere. This was true when they were present. The real Alfred was actually very observant to those he cared about, which led him to figure out Arthur's habits he had picked up over the years. They formed a growing list in his brain: he would wake up at six in the morning every day no matter how late he had stayed up the night before to work, hardly taking time for breakfast. His breakfast consisted of a single scone and a cup of tea, which lasted until lunch or later for Arthur rarely ate lunch. Dinner was spent with Alfred and he ate whatever was available. Arthur also had a habit of not looking at himself in the mirror for some reason and often looked down at the floor when he spoke.

Needless to say, Alfred saw many things that fueled his determination to help Arthur.

"Hey Iggy, let me do the cooking tonight."

Arthur raised his head from the book he had been reading, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Firstly, what is with the nicknames, Alfred? Second, why do you want to cook?"

Alfred grinned. "Well, the nicknames suit you and I just want to let you rest for a bit, that's all."

"So it's…not because my cooking is horrible?"

Arthur frowned when Alfred chuckled. "Artie, my cooking isn't that much better than yours."

"You've heard the others; my cooking is awful. Everything always burns."

Alfred sighed. "It's only because you get so into your work that you lose track of time. You put way too much pressure on yourself; just do one thing at a time Art."

Arthur sighed. "Since when are you so all-knowing? Just a month ago you were a git." He smiled, shaking his head when Alfred laughed.

"I guess I just notice things that others don't you included. Get back to your book, I got this." Alfred turned to the refrigerator and took some food out while Arthur watched, curious as to what Alfred was planning.

"You're not making burgers, are you?"

Alfred stopped what he was doing and slowly turned around. "Iggy. Do you seriously think all I know how to make are hamburgers?"

"Sometimes I wonder."

"Okay, yes, burgers are my favorite food but seriously I know how to make other things. Do you really think I could stay in shape and just eat burgers all the time? You can't out exercise a bad diet! So no, I'm not making burgers. Do you like stir fry?"

Arthur was too shocked to say anything but nodded his head in response. He always saw Alfred with a bunch of burgers but apparently he had been wrong. Come to think of it, he'd been wrong about Alfred a lot lately. He smiled to himself, thinking of how much Alfred had grown up. The first few years had been hard with most of the difficulty due to his terrible bosses, but eventually even they couldn't stop him from feeling proud of Alfred. Sure, the Fourth of July was somewhat sad but for the most part Arthur was incredibly happy for Alfred. He hadn't gone to any of his birthday parties not because he was getting drunk but because he was not allowed or because he had to do work to please his bosses.

He had a feeling that this year, he'd actually attend to see what he had been missing.

"Iggy? Hello, earth to Arthur…"

Arthur reentered the world to see Alfred waving his hand in front of his face.

"England?"

"Since when do you call me England? You haven't called me that in ages."

"Just had to get your attention, is all. Dinner's ready." Alfred walked over to the table, where he'd set two plates and silverware on the table with the food. Arthur followed suit and they served themselves in a comfortable silence. Arthur was pleasantly surprised to see that the food tasted really good.

"I need to stop doubting you, and you need to cook more often." Arthur remarked as he raised his fork to his lips again.

"I'm cool with that."

A few more minutes passed as the clink of silver on plates was the only sound in the room until Arthur set his fork down and wiped his mouth with his napkin.

"Thank you Alfred, that was lovely, but now I must get back to work."

Alfred's eyes widened as he watched Arthur get up. He wasn't actually serious was he? He had hardly eaten anything!

"Artie, are you feeling alright?"

"Hmm?" Arthur turned around. "Well, yes, I feel fine. Why do you ask?"

"You hardly ate anything."

The Brit visibly paled. "Well, I just wasn't hungry." His face flushed when his stomach growled in response.

Alfred's eyes widened further, and then his head popped up in realization. "You haven't been eating at all have you? You're just eating enough to keep yourself from getting sick, aren't you?"

"Th-that's not how I would put it-"

"Arthur, starving yourself won't help you." He got up from the table. "You need to eat some more, come on."

Arthur started laughing nervously, trying to brush Alfred off and Alfred could tell. "Al, this is foolish, I'm truly-"

"Arthur." His voice had gotten low and a worried tone was evident. "Please."

"Alfred I'm _fine_."

"I don't think you are-" he was cut off by being shoved by the Briton.

"Shut up! Despite what you think I'm fine!" He snapped. "You just go back to the table and let me handle myself. I do in fact eat thank you very much. I'm a bit too soft to not be, so that ruins your little 'theory'. Just because I don't like to eat as much as some others does not mean I am starving myself. I have too much work to do and I eat around my work schedule, which as you know is very busy so I don't have much time for chewing as it gets in the way." His eyes had narrowed somewhere in the middle. "I have been told time and time again that personal things are a waste of time and thus I act accordingly to get good work done rather than spend all day wasting time on silly things like food. I am fine, so please leave me alone." He turned away and began walking.

He couldn't get very far before he heard a very small "Your health is as important as your work. Please don't jeopardize your health just to please him." It didn't take a genius to figure out who "he" was, both of them knew. Arthur closed his eyes and stopped moving, standing completely still.

"But he said-"

"I know what he said." Alfred frowned as he watched Arthur wince at the interruption. "Sorry to interrupt you. Please, listen to me, not him. He lied. He wants you to fail so he looks better."

"But I am a failure. I need to get better."

"Arthur, he wouldn't like you even if you overworked yourself to death."

Arthur spun around. "You're a liar!" His green eyes flashed in anger. "You just want to see me fail so you can laugh about me behind my back! Was that your plan all along? Did you scheme with the others? Is the frog outside my window recording this?!" He was in hysterics by now and completely unaware to Alfred getting closer to him. "Is this some sort of joke to you? Am I that pathetic?" He collapsed and only stayed up on his legs since Alfred was able to catch him.

"I'm so sorry Arthur. Please listen to me and know I speak the real truth; your boss won't like you even if you became even more amazing than you already are. He is selfish and everything revolves around money for him, he doesn't care about you or anything but the money." Arthur wasn't looking at him as Alfred tried to make eye contact. Even if he were able to succeed, Arthur wouldn't have been able to see him, his vision was too watery.

Arthur rubbed his eyes, mumbling "You bloody American, making me cry as much as a preteen girl."

Alfred laughed and hugged Arthur, trying to show him he meant everything he had said.

"This isn't a joke, right?"

"It never was, nor will it ever be. I'm going to help you like I said the other day, okay?" He smiled. "We've already addressed one problem! You don't need to today, but maybe tomorrow or the next day you can maybe eat one or two more mouthfuls before you leave? It would help you and it would make me feel better too." Alfred gave him a sheepish smile. "He's fed you lies and you ate them instead of food. It's no wonder you're always so tired, Artie!" Alfred smiled warmly. "We need to talk to someone."

"Someone?"

"Yeah, about your boss. You need someone that won't make you want to kill yourself." He winced at his own words. "Sorry, sorry, that came out wrong."

"No, no, you're fine." Arthur was staring at the floor, picturing what that would look like. "Its brilliant except I don't know who I would talk to. Besides, do you know how childish that would make me? I'd be 'telling' on my boss! Elementary school children do things like that, not grown men, let alone _nations_!"

"Do you have a better idea? At least it will give results and the worst that can happen is they'd find out what your current boss has been doing. At least they'll know!"

Arthur brought his hand to his face, frustrated. "Alfred, I _can't_."

"Tell me _why_, please."

"You know bloody well _why_!"

"I truly don't!"

"I don't want them to think I'm weaker than they already do!"

Oh. That explained it. The puzzle clicked in Alfred's mind as Arthur looked down once more, blushing and embarrassed.

"Arthur, remind me what happened in World War Two. Something about you being totally badass and surviving the Blitz? Nobody will think you're weak. They'll think you're brave for actually asking for help and doing something. Asking for help doesn't make you weak, it makes you strong because you know you deserve better."

"That's the problem," Arthur gave a sad smile. "I'm not entirely sure that I do."

"I'll prove to you that you deserve better, okay? It's my job to, not only as a hero but as your best friend."

"Best friend?"

"The very best." Alfred smiled and wrapped an arm around the Brit, making the other blond roll his eyes as he grinned. "Things will get better, you'll see."

Arthur felt the newly-familiar feeling of hope flutter in his chest.

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><p><strong>AN: I hope you enjoyed this longer chapter as a thank you for sticking with me! I feel like in all of my stories one of the characters has a problem that results in not eating or not eating enough, ugh :P Well, I hope this wasn't too sad for you! Thanks for reading and tell me what you think! Have a great day! :D <strong>


	15. Further

**Chapter 15: Further**

**AN: I'm so sorry for this late update! I've been incredibly busy and I've had to deal with a very vigorous course load from school and also I'm preparing to go to Philadelphia with my school this coming week so I've been preparing for that, but really there isn't an excuse so thank you all for bearing with me on this! I hope you all enjoy this update as a thank you for being so patient with me :D I think a couple things will be answered in this chapter, just a bit of a hint ;) Also, during the meeting I have no idea what would actually go on because I had no idea what to look up so please don't get mad at me if it isn't accurate! Thank you! :D**

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING.**

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><p>Arthur woke the next morning feeling incredibly refreshed, ready to take on the world. He headed down to his kitchen to make some tea to fully wake up, still groggy from sleep.<p>

He nearly dropped the boiling water when he remembered what he was doing today; actually doing something for _himself_ rather than the prat that was his _old _boss, and it felt _good_ to emphasize that word.

He was still terrified, though.

He nearly jumped out of his skin again when all of sudden came a sleepy voice saying "Mornin' Artie, what's for breakfast?"

"Alfred, for God's sake you nearly made me have a heart attack."

"Oh, sorry, wouldn't want you collapsing in your old age from that now would we?"

Arthur gave him a look. "Haha, very funny." He knew Alfred enough to see that he was just joking around, even if Arthur found no humor in his efforts. "I actually haven't started making anything, so feel free to make whatever."

Alfred grunted in response and started rummaging through cabinets as Arthur continued to sip his tea, immediately relaxing as the hot liquid went down his throat.

"You feel ready to take on today?"

"Well, I'm still not one hundred percent sure they'll listen but I'll try anything at this point. I can't go anywhere but up from here." Arthur shrugged. Alfred sighed, knowing Arthur was still dealing with his low self-worth problems.

"They will totally listen to you! You're the embodiment of the country they love! And if by any chance they don't, which is practically one in a billion here, they'll listen to me." Alfred's eyes lit up in determination, knowing he'd make Arthur's higher-ups listen to him. He'd make Arthur feel better if it killed him.

"Just make your food so we can leave. The Prime Minister waits for no one."

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><p>Once they finally arrived at Buckingham Palace where Alfred and Arthur were meeting Winston Churchill, things went along smoothly. Arthur's earlier fears about being ignored were practically nonexistent once he was face to face with the man.<p>

"Hello Mr. Kirkland, Mr. Jones."

"Good morning, sir." Arthur began as he shook the man's hand. "How have you been?"

"I have been doing very well, thank you. I believe we have some matters to discuss, don't we? Please, sit down so we can talk." He led them all into the room and took seats around Churchill's desk.

"Alright, now what seems to be the problem?"

Arthur sighed, this was it. "Well, sir, I came to ask for a replacement supervisor. You see, I've been dealing with verbal abuse from my current one and all of my past ones simply for being me. I don't understand what I did to warrant this, but it happened and I cannot reverse the past. All I am asking for is for you to reassign someone to me because I am unable to deal with it anymore." There, he said it.

"This surprises me. I had always thought those men were kindhearted and good people? Surely this must not have been ongoing from the very start?"

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, sir."

"You've done no such thing! I had truly thought I was doing you a favor by making placing them in the position; I had countless interviews and obviously they lied through their teeth. I am truly sorry. I do help it didn't get too bad?"

Alfred cleared his throat. "He attempted suicide, sir, but he got sick before the pills kicked in."

"Unacceptable. I'll see to it that he is fired and I will tell every manager in the entire United Kingdom who he is. Nobody deserves that, and I am glad your attempt didn't work out. You do a fine job managing your duties as a country and a high official, many people in Parliament should look up to you as a role model." Churchill paused, thinking. "I know my term is almost finished, but I know I will still be a man of power and influence in politics and foreign affairs. That being said, I would be honored to be your supervisor as I was during the war." Arthur's eyes widened. "I believe your voice has been muted for far too long now that I know what was truly going on. While I wish you had informed me earlier, I am glad you told me now." The man smiled, before standing. "I am afraid I must go to a different meeting now, but I hope I've helped."

"Yes sir, I can't, just, thank you very much sir." Arthur was breathless, unable to believe he was finally free. _Free_.

He could scream out of pure joy to the sound of that word.

"I can promise you, I will treat you as you should be treated, you know more about the country than any of us and that should be well known. I look forward to working with you more, even once I am no longer Prime Minister. Thank you Mr. Kirkland and you as well Mr. Jones. Thank you especially for saving his life." They all shook hands.

"Have a good day sir, and thank you again." Arthur gestured to Alfred as they exited the room and began their way back out of the palace to the front. There, Arthur felt it all hit him.

"It's all over. He's doomed." He was breathless and had to raise a hand to his head to keep the world from spinning too much.

Alfred laughed, putting a hand on the Brit's shoulder. "You've got that right! The damn fool got what was coming to him! Nobody should treat you like that!"

Arthur looked at the hand, then up to Alfred's face. "Thank you, Alfred. I don't think I've properly thanked you before so I will now. Thank you, for everything."

Alfred smiled, knowing exactly what he meant. "It's not a problem. I don't know what I would do if I lost you."

Arthur looked at him as they began walking home. "You would help your country recover from the faltering world economy and-"

"No, that's what me as America would do." Alfred made a dismissive gesture. "I meant me as _me_, Alfred."

"I'm not following."

"Jeez, Artie, do I have to spell it out?" Alfred groaned.

"Well if you weren't being so _vague_ about everything coming out of your big mouth-"

"I like you, okay?" Alfred stuck his hands in his pockets and looked down.

Arthur shut his mouth, completely stunned. "Pardon?"

Alfred looked up, seeming like a whiny child. "Don't make me repeat myself, I know you heard me."

"Well, yes, I did but," Arthur exhaled. "What?"

"I don't know." Alfred chuckled nervously. "I don't know how it happened it just did. I guess one day during one of those stupid meeting back during that first war I just looked at you differently and it sorta _happened_." He shrugged, feeling defeated. "I don't really know what else to say."

"Alfred-"

"Don't you dare try to pity me. I don't need that. Just say you don't like me so I can just move on."

"Alfred, I'm not going to say that because it's not true. Yes, you're attractive and yes, you're my friend. I'm just," He exhaled again before continuing, running a hand through his hair. "I just can't handle a relationship right now. I'm just…I can't. Please understand what I mean." His eyes pleaded at Alfred to understand.

Alfred smiled sadly. "I do, don't worry. I'm fine with being friends with an old man like you."

"Sod off!" Arthur scoffed, again knowing Alfred was joking around.

Alfred laughed. "Nah, it's worth it to make you all pissy." Alfred ruffled Arthur's hair which made the other cringe.

"Get your hands off of my head or I'll force-feed you a bunch of burnt scones."

Alfred laughed harder. "You mean your 'normal' scones?"

Arthur shook his head. "You're such a prat."

"I'm just teasing ya Artie." His laughter died down and a comfortable silence came up. "So maybe someday, then?"

Arthur nodded. "Maybe someday."

**AN: Yay Arthur has a new boss that isn't awful, whoo! This is why I purposely didn't make Churchill his boss from the start; I've been planning that for ages! And we have a little confession! I hope you don't think that was rushed, and I hope you aren't upset with Arthur's response. I don't see how someone can enter a healthy relationship with another person with really bad self-esteem issues, how couldn't Arthur try to please Alfred in every aspect of himself because he thought he was unworthy and an awful, disgusting person? Yes, he's getting better but he knows he shouldn't do that to himself and for now they'll just be the dorks we love without all of the added pressure of a relationship. Anyway, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! :D**


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